Took Brinley in for a well check, we were running a little late getting there but we found a spot in the parking garage right next to the stairwell that leads to the Skywalk and my kids were looking cute and I was thinking, "HECK YES!" We got lots of compliments on how adorable the kids were, the doctor told me over and over that Brinley is such a "big and healthy girl!" Genetics, lady. Brinley got her immunizations and we left. And that, my friends, is when all hell broke loose.
Got down to our level in the parking garage and I'm internally gloating about how well behaved they both were, especially with Bri getting shots, and then I see Michael trip over some frozen snow in his haste to get to the car and out of the sub zero, hell freezing temperature. He skidded across the cement floor and then face planted into our car and then the cement floor. I ran to the car and threw open the door and sat Brinley down in the passenger seat so she'd be out of the cold and then turned around to check out Michael's face. I then hear a loud thud followed by Brinley's screaming. Turn around and she's faceplanted into the floor board of the car. I grab her out and put Michael in and get her strapped into her seat and check for damage-none, thank heavens. Back to the front seat with Michael who is crying and snotting and drooling all over and has a piece of skin hanging from his eyebrow. He let me wipe it with a baby wipe and I see it's not anywhere near as bad as I thought it would be. I hold him and love him and he decides he's okay so I go to put him in his seat and the M&M gods are smiling on us because there's an unopened package of mini M&Ms just sitting there waiting for a 3 year old to eat them.
I decide we'll hit hobby lobby first on my loooong list of places I need to go and Michael says he's so excited to go to "Hobby Hobbly". Wrong. He was lying. Michael was a ravenous monster the entire time we were there. We are talking screaming, wailing, gnashing of teeth. So much so that it got to the point where there was a woman following me around the store eyeballing me because every time I would take his hand and hold it on the basket, so he'd quit touching, he'd scream, "STOP HURTING ME! STOP HURTING ME, MOOOOOOM!"
I lost it and thought that I had enough stuff for a good start on the project I'm working on and tell him we're leaving. He asked if we were going to get Chick Fil A and I whipped around, glared it his red splotchy face and curtly said, "No." Lord stop me if this kid did not break every mirror in the store with the decibel of screeching that ensued. I'm surprised the windows didn't start shattering one by one. Once again I had to grab his hand and drag him to he check out. Checkout =screams for candy, a thump in the mouth from me, a gasp from the grandma behind me, giggles from the grandpa in front of me, and scoffs from the young girls behind me that their kids, "are never going to act like that." (Aka me, 5 years ago-good luck, girls).
So now, I sit in my car. Fearing to get out. Fearing waking up the beast that is my tiny dictator toddler today. Fearing that maybe I shouldn't have let him sleep in case he has a concussion. Children-some days we fear them...with good reason.
No comments:
Post a Comment