It's amazing how often, as a mother, I think to myself, "If only I'd done that differently." I mean, despite that fact that I'm human and, therefore, capable of making the odd - or perhaps the-all-too-frequent, is a better term - mistake, I do find as a mother, moments where I feel I may have made the wrong decision, or said the wrong thing - perhaps acted a little too impulsively - and, as a result would do just about anything to turn back the clock a few minutes, are happening more and more.
Perhaps, if I'd been better prepared for this age - the age where my quite well-behaved, and rather quiet and subdued three-year-old, became a rather vocal and decisive (not-to-mention argumentative) individual - I wouldn't have been taken by surprise quite as much as I was during my shopping outing the other day. Now, for those who've read, "The Great Shopping Stand-off" - a previous post, which describes an incident where I felt almost certain I was about to be embarrassed in the middle of a shop by a public display of frustration (aka tantrum) courtesy of little madam - you'll be pleased to hear that this particular story has a far more turbulent and eventful ending.
On this particular day, which happened to be a week-or-so prior to Christmas (the busiest shopping time of the year), I had promised little madam - and little man, too, of course - a quick go on the Thomas the Tank Engine ride at my local shopping centre; providing, of course, they were well-behaved while they endured a few important shopping tasks first. Although we were meant to be shopping for a birthday present for one of little madam's friends, I found myself sidetracked (as I often do) in the Target children’s clothing department.
After selecting a couple of rather nice size-three summer dresses off the rack, and even accepting little madam's input with regards to one of the choices, my eyes suddenly set upon the most adorable playsuit I've ever seen; it was covered in a lovely floral print, and was a mix between a dress and a pair of pantaloons (that's old fashioned frilly pants, for those who aren't familiar with the term). It was at this point, in my moment of excitement over such a find, that I made the mistake of asking little madam (who'd been cooperative with the choices so far) what she thought of it. Well. I guess in typical three-year-old fashion, her cooperation had been exhausted, and her response to my brief, and quite insincere query (as my intention was to buy the playsuit, regardless of how she felt about it), was, "I don't like it." Although her response surprised me, I didn't really think anything of it, and simply brushed off her statement with a, "Oh, that's a shame. I think it’s lovely", before hanging the coat hanger, with the lovely playsuit attached, on the handle of the pusher.
Hindsight: Foresight: It's amazing what a little bit of these could do. I guess, in hindsight - or if I’d had the foresight to realise what was about to happen - I would have given in to little madam's rather abrupt demand – the demand that consisted of a rather loud, "Put that back!" - immediately. After all, what's the big deal? It's just a silly playsuit. Besides, the shopping centre's not that far away. I could arrange to sneak back at any time. But instead, I ignored her. To be perfectly honest, I really thought that she'd forget about it and, well, just get over it. Unfortunately, on this particular day, at this particular time, my thinking was way off. And, as I made my way towards the toy department in search of the birthday gift, with little man in the pusher, and little madam trailing close behind, I heard it again. "Put that back!" This, I again, ignored. It was only when she shouted the demand a fourth or fifth time, did I agree (or at least pretend to agree) with a rather disappointed-sounding, "Alright. I will."
Amazingly, though, she saw right through my...well...I guess I should call it a "lie", because I actually, at that point in time, still had no intention of putting the lovely playsuit back. Of course, I was still under the delusion that she would (eventually, anyway) just forget about it and get over it. But, like an elephant, little madam was not about to forget anything. Nor was she about to get over my blatant attempt to try and distract her with the task of trying to choose a gift for her friend. And, to try and make me understand the fact that she definitely DID NOT want me to buy the playsuit – the playsuit that I was planning to buy regardless of little madam's repeated demands - she shouted again, "Put that back, NOW!"
I guess it should have been apparent at that point in time, due to her rather obvious and growing frustration at my failure to give in to her demand, that she was not going to do as I originally thought/felt she would, and just forget about it and get over it. But I guess I was in some sort of denial. Not to mention, I lacked the foresight I needed to dig me out of this quickly- escalating situation. So I tried telling her, with a bit more sincerity this time (as I was beginning to realise that the playsuit was potentially going to be more trouble than it was worth), that I had every intention of returning the playsuit, on our way back through the store, as soon as we’d chosen her friend a present.
I guess at this point, though, she was beyond capable of believing anything I said. Fair enough. I'd lied to her only minutes earlier. So instead of simply continuing to verbalise her demand, she decided to take a more physical approach, and snatched (with quite a bit of ferocity, I might add) the coat hanger, with lovely floral playsuit attached, off the handle of the pusher. So sudden and violent were her actions, that I was certain I’d heard the hanger snap in the process. Thankfully it hadn’t but I was, at this point, forced to act and I glared at her and, in a firmer-than-usual voice, said “Right!”
I guess this might have been the moment little madam actually wished she’d had some foresight. Foresight to realise that any nonsense behaviour – behaviour that I will NOT tolerate – would result in her missing out on a go on the Thomas the Tank Engine ride. After realising how annoyed I was, she pleaded with me (as the tears rolled freely down her beautiful soft cheeks) desperately. “But I want to go on Thomas.” Well, obviously I wasn’t prepared to let her get away with expressing her frustration in the way she had, so I simply shook my head and clicked my tongue (you know? "Tutt, tutt"). Perhaps if I’d had the chance to rewind time and do things again, I might not have had to face the crowds of pre-Christmas shoppers – not-to-mention endure the sympathetic look, and comment of, “I remember that age all too well”, an older lady gave me as she was (no doubt) taken on a trip down memory lane, thanks to little madam’s foot-stamping carry-on – as little madam continued to verbalise her disgust over the fact that she was now likely to miss out on the ride I had promised her. And the more I tried ignoring her, the louder she screamed. Eventually, after realising that calming her down was going to prove impossible (unless, of course, I was willing to give in to her demands; something that I most certainly WAS NOT about to do) so I was forced to make my way towards the store exit – and return the lovely dresses and that gorgeous (yet certainly not worth all the fuss) playsuit – and walk with my head down past the disapproving glares of shoppers who had, no doubt, come for a peaceful afternoon of shopping, with a screaming, foot-stamping, and very red-faced little madam trailing behind.
Why didn’t I just put the silly playsuit back in the first place? All I can do now is try and learn from my mistake. Perhaps next time she asks me to put something back on the rack (something as insignificant as a playsuit) I might actually pay attention. Then again, if this situation is like so many others I’ve experienced – situations where, as a human and a mother, I seem to forget the consequences of my actions – perhaps not.
Thanks, little madam, for the foot-stamping demonstration. I think, with a little practice, you’d be terrific at line dancing. Love you!
No comments:
Post a Comment