Up just before the coffee machine this morning, which is never a good thing.
I have to wait for it to grind and brew.
I used the time to battle some guilt about being extremely desperate for a walk versus leaving Grumpy alone with the kids again. Oh, and leaving the kids again because I need to get out of the house.
So I had a MUG then went for a walk. Upon returning, it was determined we needed some provisions, first and foremost, more coffee beans, otherwise … well, not worth considering the consequences of that particular defecit, really.
It was for this reason we all walked up the street to the supermarket and coffee shop to acquire said provisions. It was during one stop that Grumpy was left alone with Chippie and let him out of his pram.
Usually, and previously, this has never been an issue as he is most happy when walking and not sitting. Thus, we were most suprised at his desire to be carried.
Monkey Boy was desperate for a wee, so I took him to the loo, advising Grumpy to go ahead and we’d catch up. It didn’t take us long, as we crossed the road to find Chippie sitting in the middle of the footpath having a screaming tanty.
Nice. Always my favourite thing in the world.
I’ve handled this before; two kids, two entirely different personalities, multiple methods of handling the situation.
I used a majority of those methods, as did Grumpy; wandering off, hiding and ultimately picking him up and saying “you’re coming”. I wanted to get home.
Once we were past the busy intersection and over the railway crossing, and having had my fill of screaming, kicking tantrum in my arms, I put him on the ground again.
Twenty minutes in and he’s still going. I’m not sure at which point he felt that he was going to get what he wanted.
(I might add, by this point, even I had no clue what he wanted, and, I’m fairly convinced, nor did he).
Subsequently, and after another five minutes of walking off and hiding and him throwing himself partly onto the road, and the situation getting dangerous, I sat down next to him.
And flapped (just like he was doing).
And kicked (just like he was doing).
And screamed (just like he was doing).
I even ignored all the passers-by, just like he was donig. Only, they never stopped and tried to comfort me and ask me if I was ok, like they do to pre-two year olds. Bastards.
This “have a tantrum yourself” is a sure winner. Done it before. Kids always stop and look at you like you’re a complete nut.
Except, sigh for the exception. Which I appear to have given birth to.
So, I sat for five minutes, on the footpath, flapping, kicking and screaming and, for my efforts, being headbutt and smacked by abovementioned pre-two year old, who was most pissed off at my behaviour. Perhaps I was doing it better than he? Not sure.
I did manage to get him a few steps closer to home, by pulling out my phone and video taping his tantrum (another sure winner to get them to stop) which resulted in him chasing me and taking a few open-handed swings and attempts to grab my phone. A few steps further occurred when I played it back to him.
At the rate we were going, we would get home sometime next April.
Picked him up, through him over my shoulder, had several words about it being “enough” and “going home wether he likes it or not”.
Catch up with Grumpy and hand him over, where the tantrum subsides slightly, to a subdued level. Until we get to the front door.
Where it all starts up again.
He slams the door, while he’s on the outside of it. I, quite frankly, am bored of the whole thing a this stage, and leave him there. There are things to be done. So we set about doing them, approaching at intervals to enquire as to whether his tantrum is working for him and if he’s ready to come inside anytime soon, to which he’d scream louder and slam the door again.
I’ll take that as a “no” then? Just askin’
Monkey Boy, the sensitive soul he is, was becoming more and more distressed by Chippie’s behaviour, screaming and refusal to come inside. Oh, and possibly my refusal to bring Chippie inside. Much discussion was had pertaining to the management of Toddler Tantrums and much consoling and comforting of Monkey Boy was partaken.
“But, mummy,” he asks. “Can we please just take him around the back of the house and leave him outside there? I’m worried someone will come past and take him.”
Hrrmmmm. Good point. I can see anyone walking past wanting to take that home. I wonder how long it will take before someone collects him?
And is it ok to whip up a sign saying “Free to good home”?
Anyhoo. It all ended well with a bit of Star Wars Lego therapy, where I aleviated some of this morning’s guily by suggesting to Monkey Boy I would help him build his new Lego (I also blame this suggestion on PTSD – post tantrum stress disorder) and became The Favourite Parent for a period of approximately 23 seconds.