Why You Can't Judge Temper Tantrums. Yes, You.

Saturday afternoon we were leaving some play time at the gym when my two-weeks-shy-of-2-year-old did what he's been doing best lately:

Laying down in the middle of the floor in a public place and just simply whiny-screaming.

And I have reached a point--especially with child number two--where I just don't care anymore.

I laughed and said to him, "Oh we're going to do this here?" and was all smiles as I man-handled him to husband who man-handled him to the car, where he continued to escalate the screams for another twenty minutes.

During this man-handling session, we received a friendly chuckle and a "Been there" from a dad and his seven-year-old, smiles of pity from the ladies who work at the gym's front desk, and annoyed scowls from some moms--yes, MOMS--who had finished up a workout and sat chatting.

After all, his screams were masking the volume of so-and-so's latest gossip.

It was en route to the car that I decided no one has the right to judge any body for a kid throwing a temper tantrum (*within reason).

My decision was based on a simple answer: it is downright impossible to predict what on EARTH would possibly cause these meltdowns.

I'll give you some examples of triggers--I'm sure you could add your own:

• Placing raisins in a bowl--as they are enjoyed every other time--instead of leaving them in the raisin box. 
• Giving the tube of blue chapstick instead of the red tube, although none was specified.
• Not letting the child open the door on his own, take his shoe off on his own, or unwrap the freaking lollipop wrapper on his own.
• Choosing the shower in the house that the child always showers in, because this one time, he wants the one that he's never showered in.
• Putting too much ketchup on a plate. 
• Playing the YouTube version of "Sweet Home Alabama" (because you're too cheap to buy it on iTunes), because that's the song he asked for, and then he demands the "Super Why" theme song in the first three chords, and well, you say no, because...NO.
• After hearing him yell that he wants the fire truck from the back of the car--the one that's on the floor that he's been yelling for for the last five minutes--and you're stopped at a red light so you put it in park and unbuckle your seat belt, find your Go-Go-Gadget arms and grab the fire truck and hand it to him and he says no. And yells for the random Lego man on the floor instead. Since the light is green, you can't grab him, and plus, shouldn't he learn a lesson in not getting everything he wants anyway? 

And all of these things, they happen without warning. Oh sure, you can maybe try to calculate it based upon time of day: Is he just hungry? Are we close to nap time? Did he not nap well? Could his ears hurt?

But the answer is generally, "Nope, he is sated and well-rested and healthy, and he's just being a pain in the arse." 

Or rather, he is just being two. And these declarations of independence are fierce.

And completely unpredictable.

Sometimes, the blue tube of chapstick will suffice. As will the orange lollipop instead of the red one. Same goes for the fire truck, the shower, the ketchup, and the raisins. 

So then the general population asks: "Why? Why must you go places with him when he's like that? He disturbs my peaceful grocery shopping and gossipy conversations, and I just don't want to hear him cry. It damages my hearing."

To which I reply: "What, and keep him home until he's thirteen-years-old and mute by choice because I'm not cool enough to talk to? No. We are completely out of milk, and it is a necessity that we go into the store anyway. I don't have time to go later because I work/have to take older brother to practice/be home to wait for repair man/have other things I like to do with my life. I will try my best to bribe with a cookie or something else, but there's a good chance this won't end well and it's a risk I have to take."

From now on, I'm holding my head high--no shame here--I promise we will be quick, and I promise I will return your looks of annoyance and perhaps disgust with a very big smile and maybe even a, "Wrong lollipop color" explanation. I know you won't care, ye judgers, but I won't be apologizing. 

That's the honest truth.

*I say this because sometimes you see a ten-year-old stomping his feet in the Star Wars aisle at Target and you shake your head--but there are always extenuating circumstances and background stories that we just don't know or understand. 

-Kristin