Meltdown At The Mall

Dear Laney,

Yesterday, you got the day started off right by sharing a bowl of Shredded Wheat with your grandmother. You're going through this phase lately where you want to give me kisses on the mouth, but only after you've eaten something squishy and disgusting like this. I'm starting to suspect a conspiracy. A big, slobbery conspiracy.

We ran a few errands and walked around downtown, and then your dad met us for lunch at the Mexican restaurant where you took my camera from me and took this not-at-all-flattering picture of Peg Peg and Tex.

We had started to notice that the car was making a grinding sound. While Tex took it to the friendly folks at Subaru to check it out, us girls were trapped at the mall for two hours. "Oh, boo hoo," some of you might be saying, "You had to walk around the mall. Big whoop." Those people deserve a poke in the eye don't know what you're like when you haven't had a nap all day long.

Things started to go awry when I ran out of pennies for you to throw in the fountain.

Then, you locked yourself in a dressing room at Eddie Bauer, with no intention of coming out.

Finally, we went to the educational toy store, where you fell in love with a $70 mini metal replica of a shopping cart. You threw in a doll from a display and headed to the front door of the store, because you wanted to take the baby and the buggy on a cruise through the mall. I caught you before the shoplift sensor went off, and told you the merchandise had to remain in the store.

(dramatic pause)

You threw yourself down in the doorway of the store, banged your head on the ground and screamed. Then, while I was trying to pull you up by the arm, you flipped over and laid down on your back and screamed some more.

This is the difference between parents and grandparents: earlier this week, after a bout of bad behavior, you demanded to be taken outside and pushed on the swing. I overheard your dad say, "No, Laney, That's the kind of thing we do with reasonable babies, and you're not being very reasonable right now." A grandmother, on the other hand, will witness a full-throttle tantrum, then on the car ride home half an hour later, will lean up from the back seat and whisper, "You know, I would have bought the buggy."

sigh.

Love,

Mom