So, today I auditioned for the Supernanny television show. Well, I might as well have been. It was a beautiful morning, and a perfect day to get a little shopping done. I should have realized when Jonah kicked up a fuss for the second day in a row about wearing shorts and a t-shirt (he has this thing about bare arms and legs), that the day was not going to go as swimmingly as I had hoped.
We got into the car and headed to Timmies to pick up an iced cappuccino to deliver to Daddy at work before we headed into town. So far, so good. A donut and milk in Jonah's belly started the trip off just right in his mind. We then headed downtown so I could do some quick banking, then I thought we'd walk over to the Minds Alive toy store to let Jonah play for a bit and pick out a book and an animal for his collection. Well, after giving him warning (too many times, I might add) that it was time to stop playing at the play stations and go pick his animal, he chose to ignore me. So I paid for the book and told him it was time to go. Not what he had in mind.
The next few moments were a bit of a blur but looked somewhat like this: Humiliated pregnant mother, drags 40lb-fitful-almost-three-year-old out of toy store by one very twisted arm as onlookers watch with smirking glances. We end up outside on the sidewalk where the audience has now grown significantly in size (gorgeous Easter weekend afternoon in cottage country = very busy!). Including a very scary looking Easter Bunny handing out treats, to whom I told to "go away" in so many words. The angry toddler flops to the filthy pavement of Main Street, and REFUSES to move. The van is all the way down at the other end of the street, not close enough for this pregnant mother to throw a kicking, screaming, 40 pound sack of potatoes over my shoulder without him causing undue harm to the peacefully sleeping infant in my belly. Great. Now what?
The shop keeper of whom's store we were in front of, comes out and closes his door. I turn even more red. I try walking away to see if Jonah would follow. No luck. Just concerned parents moving in closer thinking that this wailing kid is lost or something. So I just stand there, silent, for half an hour while he continues to get dirtier and dirtier, sprawled out on the pavement. His tears are black on his face. The Easter Bunny comes by again. I dart him a look.
Finally a concerned dad and his son get a little too close for Jonah's liking and he decides to get up. I seize the opportunity and start walking. Thank the Lord, he follows. Crying and yelling all the way back to the van. I heave him into his seat, LOVING the sound of the click of his buckle, then jump in the driver's seat and drive off. The shoe shopping will have to wait.
So there we were, him now whimpering in the backseat, and I trying to hold back the tears myself, headed home on this beautiful afternoon, to go to bed.
The book in my bag that I had purchased?
Where the Wild Things Are. Ironic. I certainly didn't need a book to tell me where the wild things were. I had one sitting in the backseat.
