Dear Well-Meaning Gentleman at Albertson’s,
You seem like a nice enough person, but I could not hear a damn word you were saying to me while TWO was throwing a tantrum in the store. As you can see, I’m quite pregnant and struggled to wrangle my one-year-old as he writhed on the floor, arched his back, and screamed bloody murder.
You sat there and watched me the entire time I worked to wrestle TWO’s wiry body into the shopping cart, sipping your coffee with amusement. I can‘t say I blame you, it really was quite the spectacle.
I saw your mouth moving and I assume your words were directed at me, or maybe at TWO? Who knows … all I could hear were my child’s high–pitched wails. When I ran into you again at the end of my very-quick trip, I was able to make out your question of, “What’s wrong with him?!”
Believe me sir, if I knew, I would be dealing with this in the first place. In fact, I would probably be rich and someone else would be doing my grocery shopping for me while I rested at a spa somewhere. If I knew what makes toddlers lose it for no apparent reason, I would write a book about it and make a million freaking dollars. So NO, I don’t know what‘s wrong with him.
My sweet boy just started throwing serious tantrums this week, and he puts his older brother to shame. Yes … I have a 4-year-old and our third is due in June. Yes, I do know what causes that, thank you very much for asking. Now … good day.