People have told me that 18 months is the down slide to the terrible twos. I usually brush this comment off. Not because I don't believe them, I just don't like to worry about things unless there happening. Besides, Marshall is the happiest little guy this side of North America. Super friendly, cheery, easy to bring everywhere. I do have some sleep issues with him, but other then that the kid is gravy. I am so lucky. So you can imagine my surprise when this happened:
The Wal-Mart Melt Down
The two of us are in a very long line at Wal-Mart waiting to cash out. Marshall is perched in the shopping cart, waving and smiling at anybody who will look his way. The day is good and life is peachy. We arrive at the cashier point. Marshall starts to grab the display with the gift cards on them. "No honey" I say in I love my child, isn't he sweet tone. But instead of him going back to being happy he keeps trying to reach for them. "No" I say a little firmer. Apparently, he doesn't like that word. Hearing it come from my mouth sends him into a full blown tantrum, at a magnitude I have never seen. He starts screaming at the top of his lungs. Red face, flailing arms, the whole nine yards. I'm so shocked that I can barely comprehend what the hell is going on. I start rocking the cart back and forth trying to calm him down. He attempts to throw himself back. I feel my cheeks go red. I notice the other people staring, shaking their heads, or looking at the ground as if not to make eye contact. I stop pushing the cart, not realizing I have only brought him closer to the gift cards. He proceeds to take the whole display down. "Marshall", I say between clenched teeth. "I said no". I'm scurrying to pick up the scattered gift cards. The cashier is looking less then impressed, as she chews her gum, and twirls her purple hair.
"I'm so sorry" I say with pleading eyes.
"Someone will come and clean this up, I guess" she says back.
It takes everything in my power not to punch her in the throat. Meanwhile Marshall is now chucking things out of my purse onto the ground. I throw some cash at the stupid cashier, and move as fast as I can towards the exit door with my screaming, face redder then a tomato, child. I load him in my truck, cartwheel my groceries in, push the shopping cart somewhere (seriously, it may have hit a car, or disappeared into thin air for all I know), jump in the drivers seat, and speed away like the fucking police are chasing me. (Which I would probably love, because I totally have a thing for cops). Half way home I realize that my son is laughing in the back seat. The little shit head is laughing....LAUGHING!
"Um, honey bunches of oats" I say to him in a scary, creepy, trying to be understanding tone "What the hell just happened back there"
"Ball" he replies back.
I'm not really sure what the fuck a ball has to do with anything, but at least hes no longer screaming.
Don't let his cuteness fool you.........he will throw a temper tantrum when you least expect it......it happened to me.