Police Intervention

 

Somehow I failed to process the memo that tax free weekend began today.  Otherwise, I would have happily returned home after working out at the gym this morning.  Instead, I pulled The Trifecta across the Target parking lot and elbowed another mother to secure the cart that has the two seats in front rather than just the one standard seat inside the cart.  I had an advantage over the other mother because she had an infant in her arms. 

I managed to fill my cart with the items on my shopping list: two storage tubs, Greenworks spray, Murphy’s hand soap, naproxen, paper plates, and baby shampoo.  I also managed to secure three pair of pink glitter shoes (not originally on my list).  It was time to make the final purchases of the day:  birthday gifts for a friend of The Trifecta.  I pushed the cart through the toy aisles in search of gifts that the friend would enjoy without pushing his parents to the brink of insanity. 

Baby A (pointing to bizarre gothic/hoochie dress up outfit for child):  Mommy, I want that dress for dress up time.

Me:   I don’t think that dress is the kind of outfit I want you to play in (replied the mother who allowed her children to play “dress up” in can-can girl outfits in bar setting at The Tweetsie Railroad).

Baby A:  I want it.

Me:  I understand you want it, but I my answer is “no.”

Baby A launched into a tantrum so insane that she catapulted her body out of the cart seat and threw herself onto the floor.  Her screams were so loud and filled with crazy that other parents stopped to watch the train wreck.  Because that’s how parents support other parents in this type of situation, right?

Me:  Let’s go girls.  We are leaving the store.

Disclaimer - I don’t mean this when the words leave my mouth.  It is simply a threat tactic I used in the hopes the tantruming member of The Trifecta would stabilize so that I could check out with the items in my shopping cart. 

Baby A:  NOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!! I WANT THE DRESS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! BUY IT FOR ME!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I WANT IT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! AHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Perhaps it was the combination of glass shattering screams and the threat of bodily harm to Baby A that made me do it.  I can’t tell you for sure.  But, I picked up Baby A and started my walk of shame out of the store.  Babies B and C followed with tears and screams. 

Baby A kicked me in the face.  Baby A attempted to wiggle free from my death grip.  Baby A almost cracked her head open on the hard floor.  Baby A continued to yell, scream, tantrum, squeal, squawk, and howl.  Patrons of Target stared.

I made it to the parking lot. 

A police officer approached me.  A normal person might not find delight in this situation.  I rejoiced.  For years I have been threating The Trifecta with police involvement and intervention in tantrums, potty-talk, and refusal to nap.  Today, the police were here. 

Officer:  Is everything ok, ma’am?

Me:  No, sir.  My daughter had a tantrum in the store. Children go to jail for tantrums, isn’t that right officer? (I gave him my best secret smile, smile, wink, wink.)

Officer (clearly shocked):  No ma’am!  We don’t put children in jail for tantrums!

Me (silently cursing police officer in my head and wanting to punch him in the throat):  Thank you for your help. We’re going to go home now.

The police officer watched me load The Trifecta into the car.  He watched me drive away.  I feel 96% certain that my license and vehicle make and model have been entered into some sort of database for police observation.

At this point, any respectable blogger would offer some sort of advice; some kind of lesson; a quote from a psychologically balanced parenting study; a Bible verse.

I’ve got nothing. I’ll be rocking myself in cradle position in a dark closet if you need me.

Have a great day, y’all.