Kids say the darndest things
You know, I read somewhere that a small child’s voice is loud enough to be heard over hundreds of adults. It’s absolutely true. After work one day last week I needed to pop in to the pharmacy to pick up a prescription and, naturally, I had to take the child in with me because it was too hot to leave him in the car. (I’m kidding. I would never leave a three year-old alone in the car even though I have been tempted to on numerous occasions.) We were standing in a rather lengthy, slow-moving line and he clearly didn’t want to be there. I didn’t blame him – I didn’t want to be there either. He was standing there whining, wiggling around, then running over and climbing on the chairs and refusing to listen to anything that came out of my mouth. He was annoying enough that several people in line began to throw irritated looks my way. Not that I really cared (He’s THREE for God’s sake. This is normal behavior. Get over it, people.) but it was stressing me out just a wee bit. As he attempted to run circles around me I grabbed his little arm, pulled him toward me, and said, “Stop it! Please just stand here and hold my hand.”
He started crying and yelled as loudly as he could, “DON’T.....HIT.....ME!”
Shit. He did NOT just say that in front of all these people. Yes, he did. Great...and they’re all really staring at us now. I’m sure someone is already dialing the number for DHS or the police to report this. I hope you’re happy, you little snot. You can imagine the dialogue that was running through my mind. Should I say something back or should I ignore what he said?
I took a breath and said as calmly as I could, “I didn’t hit you. I want to hit you. But I didn’t.”
Another mom in line (with a calm child in tow) gave me a sympathetic smile. A few days later I was talking to the stylist who cuts my hair and he told me about taking his son with him to the grocery store when he was about three. The store was packed and there were a lot of people standing there waiting to check out. They were in line behind a rather large, scary looking man in bikerish apparel, carrying a 12-pack of beer under each arm and a carton of cigarettes. In earshot of the crowd of people, he told his dad, "Daddy, that guy - him right there - he's going to hell."
Out of the mouths of babes...
He started crying and yelled as loudly as he could, “DON’T.....HIT.....ME!”
Shit. He did NOT just say that in front of all these people. Yes, he did. Great...and they’re all really staring at us now. I’m sure someone is already dialing the number for DHS or the police to report this. I hope you’re happy, you little snot. You can imagine the dialogue that was running through my mind. Should I say something back or should I ignore what he said?
I took a breath and said as calmly as I could, “I didn’t hit you. I want to hit you. But I didn’t.”
Another mom in line (with a calm child in tow) gave me a sympathetic smile. A few days later I was talking to the stylist who cuts my hair and he told me about taking his son with him to the grocery store when he was about three. The store was packed and there were a lot of people standing there waiting to check out. They were in line behind a rather large, scary looking man in bikerish apparel, carrying a 12-pack of beer under each arm and a carton of cigarettes. In earshot of the crowd of people, he told his dad, "Daddy, that guy - him right there - he's going to hell."
Out of the mouths of babes...