Once upon a time, I was one of them. That smug woman, hair all done, makeup impeccable, smirking at that poor mother, with the screaming child. The child who’s running around the restaurant, getting underfoot. The child who doesn’t want to sit in his high chair. The child who’s acting out because he’s not getting his way.
Today, I was that mother. And my nearly 16-month old son was that child.
I was frazzled. Stressed. Exhausted. Strained to my limit. I did not want to yell at him. I normally do not, and in this case, especially not in front of my friends. Friends, whose children of nearly the same age, were happily playing with the kiddy kitchen (oh-so-cute! But I digress), who sat in their high chairs eating their breakfast, who at least looked like they listened to their mother.
What happened to my normally cheerful chappie? My baby boy who happily babbles non-stop? My son, who would smile and laugh at silly things his Mama did to distract him?
I let him cry and wail. He flapped his arms at me. Tried to wriggle free. Cried until he was exhausted (fortunately it was only for a couple of minutes). He whimpered. I blinked back tears furiously. We went to the play gym as planned anyway. He played a little. Even laughed on the slide. It didn’t last. He fussed again. I excused ourselves, said sorry to my friends, who nodded understandingly. We drove home in silence. I put him down for his nap and then, he was my baby again as he lay there with me, skin to skin.
Two hours later, nap over. Sweet baby time, over. I put it down to him having a bad day. We all have those, right? RIGHT?
Can someone tell me, WHO TURNED HIM INTO A TERRIBLE TODDLER TODAY? Terrible Twos, what did you do to my baby?
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