Our 3 year old, Grant, can be a handful. A handful as in a hand-grenade with the pin pulled, or a handful as in you can’t get enough of your hands on him because you just want to squeeze him to pieces. Kids are like that. Some moments we might want to sell him to the circus but you take a breath and he’ll have a glint in his eye and you can start laughing until tears come from yours.
On April 17th he decided to be a hand grenade.
Well maybe that’s not entirely fair. On that Monday, Brenda had taken him on some errands, nothing big, and nothing too strenuous. But at the Rosemount Post Office he started to get whiny. Not that I blame him, I mean seriously, how much fun can you have at a post office as an adult let alone as a 3 year old?
It’s a Monday, and it’s also Tax Day so there are a few people there. No biggie. She brings him in and goes to our P.O box, meanwhile, Grant is complaining that he wants to go home. No full-on meltdown, no snot-flying, tear-drenching epic tantrum. He’s whining a bit but hey, we’ve seen worse. Brenda continues to do her thing, managing his volume and getting her stuff done.
“BE QUIET!” a voice booms out. But it’s not my wife’s voice. She turns to look and there is some middle-aged lady glaring over at Grant. Stunned, Brenda takes him by the hand and into the line to mail something. Grant continues to whine, same volume, but there’s not anything Brenda can really do about it.
“SHUT-UP!” the voice comes again from behind the line. “Is she talking to him?” asks another woman behind my wife in line. “I guess so….” She answers in shocked anger. Brenda finishes her business, and without a word walks out of the Post Office with Grant in tow.
Now I’m a parent, so I have an ability to drown out most whining, but I can also see the other side, because I don’t enjoy hearing it either. But I tell you what, you have some balls telling a parents kid to shut up. I’ll give granny the benefit of a doubt, maybe she was just having a bad day. After all it was tax day so maybe she was pissed off that she had to mail her pull-tab money to the government. Who knows.
Good thing it was Brenda instead of me. I would’ve gone postal.
On April 17th he decided to be a hand grenade.
Well maybe that’s not entirely fair. On that Monday, Brenda had taken him on some errands, nothing big, and nothing too strenuous. But at the Rosemount Post Office he started to get whiny. Not that I blame him, I mean seriously, how much fun can you have at a post office as an adult let alone as a 3 year old?
It’s a Monday, and it’s also Tax Day so there are a few people there. No biggie. She brings him in and goes to our P.O box, meanwhile, Grant is complaining that he wants to go home. No full-on meltdown, no snot-flying, tear-drenching epic tantrum. He’s whining a bit but hey, we’ve seen worse. Brenda continues to do her thing, managing his volume and getting her stuff done.
“BE QUIET!” a voice booms out. But it’s not my wife’s voice. She turns to look and there is some middle-aged lady glaring over at Grant. Stunned, Brenda takes him by the hand and into the line to mail something. Grant continues to whine, same volume, but there’s not anything Brenda can really do about it.
“SHUT-UP!” the voice comes again from behind the line. “Is she talking to him?” asks another woman behind my wife in line. “I guess so….” She answers in shocked anger. Brenda finishes her business, and without a word walks out of the Post Office with Grant in tow.
Now I’m a parent, so I have an ability to drown out most whining, but I can also see the other side, because I don’t enjoy hearing it either. But I tell you what, you have some balls telling a parents kid to shut up. I’ll give granny the benefit of a doubt, maybe she was just having a bad day. After all it was tax day so maybe she was pissed off that she had to mail her pull-tab money to the government. Who knows.
Good thing it was Brenda instead of me. I would’ve gone postal.
1 comment:
Good post.
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