.jpg)
The “terrible
twos” suck. And with respect to my now
3 year-old – they really did “BIG TIME!”
However, I (we) survived. Now, at 3, the
tantrums, while much less frequent are 100-fold more disturbing and disruptive to
anyone within a mile (or two) radius.
On Monday, C
(now 2), A (now 3) and myself (age not disclosed) went in for our 6 month
dental exams. We had a bit of a rough start to the journey. It is winter and A
refused to wear a coat. In retrospect I should have known that something was looming.
Parking lot –
waiting room – dental exam, it was all fine. Not fine. It was GREAT. It could
not have gone any better - my two lovely soft dimpled daughters, walking, one
at each side, holding my hands as their boots rustled over the various colored
leaves, greeting strangers on route. They sat, read books, patiently waited
their turns and even engaged some women in a bit of banter. They were nauseatingly
good. Quite frankly, I think they caused
the biological clocks of women in the room to start ticking (tick tock tick
tock) and rush home in search of a mate (think movie Species). Two granny’s in the room began reminiscing “What
a sweet age that is!” one whispered to the other. But then, out of nowhere, it all quickly
went sour.
As I was waiting
to book our next 6 month appointments, I glanced over at A, who, up until this
point had been sat calmly, leafing through a children’s book with her “good
girl sticker” proudly on display. She began to fidget and jumped out of her
seat. She returned to her seat for about 5 seconds, before once again, springing
out of her seat, sprinting towards the 70 year-old woman sat across from her
and vaulting into this woman’s laps, finishing it all off with a chuckle. The unimpressed
woman “tisked” her and I was in utter shock at what I had just witnessed.
Apologizing to
the lady myself, I attempted to reprimand A, who proceeded to cry and scream at
the top of her lungs. I tried all of the supermom techniques, getting down to
her level, speaking calmly, asking her if something was wrong and the shouting
just continued and escalated. The supermom techniques then went out of the
window. “We are going to the car. Let’s go now!” I shouted. Her volume
increased. At this point all of the phones in the dental office began to ring,
the receptionists couldn’t hear their callers, visitors began putting their
hands over their ears, two people walked out and everyone left began glaring at
my child.
Of course, I
fumbled to find my keys and dropped my iPhone. It must have been about 100
degrees Fahrenheit in the room. A decided she was not going to budge and maintained
her outrageous and constant tone while managing to lock her knees and cement
her now webbed feet into the floor such that I could not even lift her away.
Impeccable. Really.
She lost focus
to stop and take a momentary breathe and I finally managed to lift her up and
out (still screaming, horns now protruding from her scalp) and I got about 10
feet out of the door when I realized that I had left C behind, quietly sat in a
chair. I then had to re-enter the office with A, (A still screaming of course)
to retrieve C. I was given a sort of death stare as soon as I opened the door.
At this point C was in tears because “I had left her behind.”
As I clumsily
made my way out, I could see the lead receptionist (who is always incredibly
friendly) mouth, “See you soon” and smile at me. I can’t really remember how we
got back to the car, but it must have been messy. I just know that we got there
somehow and they were both strapped into their car seats, SCREAMING.
I sat in the
driver’s seat, ignition still off and sank into my seat attempting to tune out
the shouting and I cried quietly into own hands before driving home.
All in a day’s
work I guess.
No comments:
Post a Comment