It was triggered by a sticky yo-yo and a ribbon baton, but escalated due to exhaustion and a rainbow sprinkled, chocolate frosted, cream-filled, finger donut.
Separate, the elements would have been harmless. Combined they created the perfect recipe for an atomic sized disaster.
As with most stories, this one begins well before the disastrous event took place. It began last night with the CBC television premier of Lucy’s favorite movie, Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer, which was showing a good hour after her traditional bedtime of seven o’clock. Lucy, desperate to watch her favorite character on television, began negotiating. Jody and I, exhausted and hoping that a later bedtime for Lu would calculate into a later wake up time, happily negotiated, stipulating only one condition – that she make it through grocery shopping that evening without whining, crying and tantrums. Negotiations complete, all parties satisfied, we set off to the grocery store and an evening of shopping.
Throughout the trip, Lucy was fairly well behaved, especially considering the full day she completed at school and her state of exhaustion. She was eager to help collect the necessary food items for her coming birthday party, and remained in a jolly mood by dancing and singing up and down the aisles. She had a mini meltdown over being told, “No” to fruit-roll-ups, but collected herself somewhat quickly, and did not resist riding in the cart when asked periodically to do so.
At seven forty five we left the store and headed home to turn on Rudolph, all the while thinking that it would be a miracle should she manage to stay awake for the car ride home, much less ten minutes into the movie. Surprisingly, Lu managed to not only make it home, but also managed to stay alert throughout the hour-long movie, finally making it into bed around nine thirty and falling asleep around nine fifty.
Imagine the surprise of both Jody and I when at seven the next morning, Lu was found to be plodding down the steps in eager anticipation of what Santa had left behind in her advent calendar and magic mailbox. So surprised was Jody that, after turning on the television to keep Lu occupied until I begrudgingly slid out of bed, he headed to work without the food and presents bought for the underprivileged family his department adopted for the holiday season.
I had not been awake and out of bed more than twenty minutes, when I received a text message from Jody informing me of his mishap and asking me if I could deliver the goods to him at work as soon as possible. With thirty minutes to head out the door, I scrambled into the shower, threw on some clothes, brushed my wet hair, threw a jacket over Lu’s pajamas, slipped her into her boots, and informed her that we could dress her as soon as we returned home from delivering the packages to Dad dy, and running an errand or two in preparation for her Birthday party on Sunday.
We had not been in the car two minutes when Lu started whining about being hungry. Understandable, since neither of us had had time for breakfast. Knowing this might be an issue, I promised her a treat at the Price Chopper just as soon as we were finished delivering the food and gifts to Jody ’s school. Seemingly satisfied, she sang the rest of the trip and skipped happily into the school. However, just as we were about to leave Jody ’s office, Lu once again began whining about being hungry. We narrowly avoided and utter meltdown by handing Lu a Smarties from the stash of Candy that Jody ’s secretary keeps on hand. Lu trekked through the school and to the car, happily munching the whole way.
Once at The Price Chopper, I let Lu choose the breakfast of her choice, since she had been so amenable to the chaos. Without stopping to think, she immediately marched to the donut case and pointed to a rainbow sprinkled, chocolate frosted, cream-filled finger. Having an aversion to filled donuts of any kind, I tried diligently to coax her into something with a little less “ick” and a little more “yum”. However, Lucy could not be swayed. Sighing, I reluctantly packed the donut in a bag, dropped it into our basket and headed off to pick up one or two more items that we had forgotten the night before. Lu obediently followed behind, asking only once when she could have her donut and dropping the subject (an abnormal event for the ever persistent and pestering Lu) when I told her she could indulge in the car on the way to our next errand. Throughout the shopping trip, during check out, and the whole way to the car, Lu walked happily beside me, chatting about this, that and the other. Once in the car, she dove voraciously into her donut, finishing three quarters of it before we arrived at The Dollar Tree, less than five minutes down the road.
Happy she now had some semblance of food in her belly, I inquired as to her readiness to enter The Dollar Tree and pick out the plates, cups, silverware, and gift bags for her upcoming party. She eagerly replied, “Ready, Mommy. But can I get a sticky yo-yo while we are here?” A true believer in the appropriate use of bribery, I replied, “If you sit nicely in the cart and refrain from whining, crying, and demanding, then yes.” A cheerful, “Ok, I will,” followed.
Entering The Dollar Tree, Lucy agreeably climbed into the cart. As we moved from one aisle to the next, one item to the next, Lucy sat politely asking for red plates, cups, silverware, and party bags to match her Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer birthday party theme. With one or two items left on the list, Lucy asked if she could have her yo-yo. Thinking her manner pleasant and thanking her for her help, I agreed, but informed her that I still had one or two items. Laying out my expectations for the short remainder of the trip, I turned down the toy aisle where we both began searching the sticky yo-yos that we had seen at least a dozen other times. I was surprised and Lucy was disappointed when we came to an empty spot on the wall, where the very yo-yos Lucy was searching for were usually located. However, despite her disappointment, Lucy refrained from a tantrum. Instead, she politely asked if she could pick out a different toy. I agreed.
Scanning the shelves again, Lucy soon spotted a ribbon baton. The ribbon baton she had “always wanted.” Always wanted, apparently, until she learned that a pink baton was not available. As I recited her color options, I began to see her facial expression change from one of excitement to disgust. With anger she crossed her arms over her chest and in a low growling voice declared, “I want a pink one!” Not intending to buy her something that she would not appreciate, I informed her that if she did not change her attitude, she would get nothing. I then proceeded to review with her the true meaning of Christmas. “Sharing and giving,” she mumbled quietly under her breath. “Thank you,” I replied. “Now if you can apologize for being so demanding and whiny, I will let you choose another color.” With a tilt of her head and a succession of rapidly blinking eyelashes, she declared, “I’m sorry” in a sugary sweet voice and asked politely for the red baton. Cautiously, I handed Lu the red baton, and once again proceeded up the aisle.
Having now gotten what she wanted, Lucy apparently felt it unnecessary to maintain a calm demeanor. The whine crept back into her voice as she demanding that the shopping trip be complete. Stopping the cart, I sternly reminded her of her promise and my plans, and not so gently informed her that if she continued with her current behavior I would be confiscating the ribbon baton. Face set in determined defiance, she declared, “NO! It’s MINE, and I want to leave now!”
“It is my baton now!” I informed her, as I pried the ribbon baton from her fingers, and watched as her face pinched and mouth opened in an ungodly scream! Lashing out at me with her arms, legs, hands, and feet, she flailed wildly, tears streaming down her face. Taking a deep breath, I asked her to calm herself down and listen.
In retrospect, I should have hauled her out of the store right then, leaving my cart full of items in the middle of the aisle, for some poor sales associate to sort through and begrudgingly return to their rightful places. However, with only one item to collect and time running out before her party, I tried bargaining.
“If you can calm down by the time I count to ten and make it through the rest of the trip quietly and respectfully, I will let you earn the baton back,” I said. “One, Two, Three…” the tears slowed, “four, five, six…” her screaming and flailing ceased. “Good,” I said slowly beginning to move again, praying to make it two aisles over without another incident. Aisle One. Aisle Two. Spotting my item at the end of the second aisle, I moved in haste, knowing my time was limited. Apparently, I did not move fast enough.
“I WANT IT! I WANT IT! GIVE ME MY BATON!” erupted from Lucy’s mouth and ricocheted off the shelves, while she suddenly tried to propel herself out of her seat and into the main basket where I had placed the baton. Pulling Lu off the cart, before she tipped precariously over the side, smashing her head against the perpendicular shelf, I placed her on the ground and informed her in an uncompromising tone that the ribbon baton was not only returning to its rightful home on the shelf, but that she had also earned herself a time out in the middle of the store.
Standing next to her in the middle of the aisle, I pulled out my phone in an attempt to start my timer. Lucy dashed to the edge of the cart in an attempt to grab the baton from the basket. Dragging her back to her time out spot, I once again attempted to start the timer. She once again darted. Placing her back in her spot again, I decided it wise to guess on the time.
Lucy’s screaming once again ensued, piercing the ears of the Dollar Tree patrons. So angry was she that she not only attempted to hit and kick me, but also made a valiant attempt at pulling items from the shelves in an effort to fling them at my head.
Having had enough, I hauled her forty-pound flailing body onto my hip, and struggled with one hand to push my cart around to the next aisle to return the ribbon baton to its rightful place. Turning the corner and entering the toy aisle, a couple standing nearby, smiled apologetically, as I quickly slipped the baton back onto its hook, and Lucy slipped off my hip, collapsing on the floor in hysterics over the loss of her beloved baton. Refusing to stand up, after having been asked, I was forced to haul her onto my hip again, still flailing and screaming wildly.
With great effort and several hikes of her muscled mass up my hip, I managed to make it to the front of the store and the checkout line, where I was forced to place Lucy in a limp mass on the ground in order to unload the cart and pay for my items. Lucy proceeded to, again, try to fling items from the nearby shelves, compelling me to grab the back of her coat while simultaneously swiping my card and loading my bags back into the cart. So ridiculous was her behavior, at this point, that I could not help but smile and laugh at the ridiculousness of the situation, while the men and women standing behind me in line reflected looks of horror, humor, and sympathy.
Having completed my transaction, I moved my cart out of the way and prepared to hike Lucy onto my hip and struggle to the car. Lucy, however, sensing that no amount of crying would bring back the baton and descending from her sugar high, stopped crying and flailing, stood on her feet, and calmly asked to sit in the cart on the way to the car. Relief and disbelief swept over me as I slipped her into the cart, exited the premises, strapped her into her seat, and began the drive home with Lucy chatting enthusiastically about her birthday before falling into a blissful sleep five minutes before pulling into our driveway.
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