It all started at the beach. We’re in the midst of potty training, so every few seconds I find myself asking ‘do you need a wee wee’. Usually the toddlers answer is no, while we’re out. But this time he said, yes.
His need for a wee was followed by a frantic run back to the car to throw open the boot and place him on the potty. Only, yes, he needed a wee, but no, he didn’t want to pull his jeans and pants down and pee on the potty in the boot.
It all went downhill from there.
After the beach we wanted to nip to Tesco, we never just ‘nip‘ anywhere anymore.
The whole car journey the toddler cried to go home. Even the Hot Dog Song on the Disney cd couldn’t distract his tantrum, or muffle the sound of it.
Then shit got real once we entered Tesco. He turned feral.
He wanted daddy while daddy
pissed off went to the toilet, leaving me with an overly excited baby and a screaming, kicking toddler.
Turns out he didn’t want daddy, because once he reappeared he wanted to go back to the car.
Turns out he didn’t want to go back to the car, he wanted to come back inside and find me.
Us, and every shopper within a mile radius, endured a continuous chorus of screaming and all became witness to defiant body jerks and rolling around on the floor. Something I didn’t wish to share with everyone, but I’m sure a few parents thought ‘thank God that’s not us today‘.
I knew they were back in the shop because the screaming was easily recognisable, and heard. ”Look, look, there’s mummy” Mr Firstooth looked desperate and also defeated, when it turned out he didn’t want mummy. He wanted his own trolley.
Given the option to have his own trolley, he stood in front of the display of potatoes, in silence, lip out, staring at the floor with the occasional side-eye to us. Those feet were cemented in that position.
An example of what this ‘laying down’ looks like
It took a stranger to set off the toddler alarm again, by asking if he was helping choose some potatoes. I wish he was, I wish he was.
The next stop to his screaming was in the pet aisle. He laid down. This was it, my chance to leave Mr Firstooth watching over him, while I finish shopping in peace.
So for ten minutes he laid there. Right in the way. But he was quiet. So we didn’t dare move him.
Until it was time to pay.
I banished them both to the car.
Leaving the shop I could hear the screaming and him calling ‘mummy’, then seeing his little red face broke my heart into a million pieces.
Once I rushed over to hold him, it turned out he didn’t want me. He wanted me to take him to a trolley.
For the sake of a little peace and the desperation to just get him in the car, I went along with it.
A trolley wasn’t enough. He wanted to go back in the shop.
You’ve got to be shitting me?
I don’t think so buddy, get in the car.
Turns Disney cd louder, to match the yelling.
Peppa Pig went on TV the moment we got home. And that was the end of the best worst tantrum. Tesco won’t be seeing us for a while, that’s for sure.