Today I needed to nip into spar to grab a couple of loaves of bread for tea.
I decided to take 4 year old Jacob with me, that was my first mistake!
I don’t take my children food shopping, can you imagine anything more boring for a child than 2 hours trudging round a shop?
Anyway, as we passed the magazine rack to get to the bread, Jacob’s eyes lit up. Passing quickly, we grabbed the bread and joined a rather long queue.
Oops, 2nd mistake. Joining the queue with magazine in sight…
After asking for a magazine, and me saying no (have you seen the price of them these days? £3+!!!), a full on meltdown erupted.
I allow my children their feelings. He was furious I’d said no, but I also wasn’t going to give in, just because there was a shop full of people.
I feel that if it’s not my child it’s someone else’s, and if it’s been someone else’s for ages, it’s my turn!
I don’t take any nonsense with tantrums, he got scooped up and stuck under my arm, rugby ball style. Same as I did with his older brothers, and no doubt the same as I’ll do with Oliver.
Chap behind me made empathic noises, told me “well done” and said he’d been there and got multiple t-shirts. I was grateful for his empathy, because although I’m not ashamed of my children’s emotions, I’m not immune to just how embarrassing it is when your child throws the wobbly of wobbles.
Holding my head high past the tuts and sniffs of other patrons, while juggling a wriggling child, 2 loaves of bread, my purse and keys I eventually made it to the till.
Without computing in my head the expression on the face of the (older) woman behind the till, but thinking I’d get an understanding or sympathetic reply, I said “don’t you just love children”.
“No. I hate them. I only had one and that was a mistake”