Tears in Sainsburys.

Next week my baby turns 2. I cannot even explain how quickly that time has gone.

I think the last few months have been possibly the hardest since she was born, but equally the most incredible to watch. I can actually have a conversation with her now, a full chat. She asks questions, she answers questions, she feels empathy, remorse, guilt. It is simply amazing. She also pushes me to my absolute breaking point on far too many occasions, the kid knows how to push my buttons that’s for sure.

The latest incident was ‘The breakdown in Sainsburys’. Me, not her.

I should have immediately sussed out that I had a cranky toddler on my hands and picked a more child friendly activity, but no. Being desperate to get out of the prison that is my house I set out on a trip to our local Sainsburys. As soon as we arrived it began. Screaming, wailing, shouting, shrieking, kicking, yelling and general anger at my decision. I powered on, all toddlers tantrum I parented the shit out of the situation and just ignored her. But as time went on I started to get flustered. I got that kind of hot, sweaty, red kind of flustered as people started to stare at me.

I resorted to threats ‘You are going straight to bed when we get home, STOP!’.

I tried begging: ‘Please, Isabelle. Just give me 5 minutes to finish this shop and we can stop off at the park on the way home’.

Finally, I pulled out the big guns. ‘Isabelle, if you stop crying you can have some crisps?!’. She stopped immediately and I thought I had cracked it. I smugly strutted towards the checkout after handing over a pack of those really crumbly carrot sticks that look kind of like wotsits. I glanced down at her, she looked evilly back up at me and tipped the whole packet all over the floor. In the middle of the queue of people.

Straight back to red, hot, sweaty and mortified I leaned down to pick them all up just as my shopping was looming towards the cashier. Could it get any worse? Of course it could. As soon as I got close enough, my darling daughter reached over and slapped me in the face. Hard enough that it made a sound that made people look. I cried. I actually cried. It was ugly, it was embarrassing. I was sweaty and embarrassed and crying. No one helped. Everyone stared, silently judging my inability to control my tiny human. I quickly paid for my shopping, shoved everything under the pushchair and hot footed it out of there.

The day did improve, after her nap she was an absolute angel and we cuddled on the sofa ‘. having a lovely time. But for some reason I cant shake the ‘Sainsbury’s incident’. I have no doubt there will be many more over the coming year as she journeys through the ‘terrible twos’ and into the zone of ‘threenager’. I obviously need to find a better way to handle it though!


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