I left work a little early yesterday to drop off Luke’s football registration. I picked up the kids on the way and when we stopped by the grocer, I prefaced by letting them know NOT to ask for toys. They have birthdays coming up and were not in need of anything. Right off the bat, Elijah saw something, but when reminded of what I said, he dropped the topic instantly. Eliana became fixated on a package of balloons. Now, I know balloons aren’t a big thing. They don’t cost much, but it was the principle of the matter, along with the domino effect of having to buy something for each person should I cave. So, I held firm. My reminder was met by a devastated-world-coming-to-an-end face… but she held it together relatively well...
Breathing a sigh of relief, I wrapped up quickly, and checked out. As we moved towards the door, the reality that we were in fact about to leave the store without balloons seemed to set in with her. She stopped in the doorway and I watched with mortification and rising blood pressure as my sweet, adorable, curly headed little darling morphed into a gremlin before my eyes.
Having just moved to this small community, and thinking of the impression this must be making, I remained outwardly calm and handed my keys, accessories and the cart to Luke, instructed Elijah to go to the car with bubba, and then reached down to pick up this rigid, shaking and red little creature. (The only thing that may have made it worse is if she had gone down to the floor and kicked and screamed.) I whispered in her ear telling her to pull it together and get her anger under control. That only elicited screams of indignation that I wouldn’t buy her balloons. Then the flailing commenced. Nothing I whisper-threatened worked. I tried to gather whatever shreds of dignity I could, and walked, toting her, to the car, trying not to run or scurry, lest someone assume I was kidnapping this screaming “helpless” child.
When we finally got home, eight LONG LOUD miles later of which I’ll spare you the details (suffice it to say, she has extraordinary lungs), I took her to the bedroom and doled out the discipline. I was amazed at the excuses she tried to come up with. “I don’t know what to do. I’m fine when my angers stays down in my tootsie toes, but when it gets big it pops out the top of my head!” “Maybe you should take me to the doctor to get whatever is making me angry out of my head.” Wow – I was floored. I didn’t really know what to do, and as a sense of inadequacy flooded over me, I was reminded that we are promised that if we train our children, they will not depart from it… so I grabbed onto that and left her with the stern warning that should this happen again, worse discipline should be expected, and that she had to learn to take personal responsibility for her actions, and that perhaps she should pray to Jesus and ask him to help her learn to control her temper… sigh. Where in the world did a not-quite-six-year-old, who obviously cannot control her temper, learn to verbalize so concisely! This business of growing little people is not an easy road!
Before dinner everyone was in a good mood again, laughing, dancing in the kitchen to Luke’s iPod. The kids did the Harlem Shake – which, I still don’t “get”. I think I should have been born in a different era?!
After I put the little ones to bed, I was delightfully surprised when Kevin showed up early from his trip! He caught an earlier flight – and so thankful he did too! We learned that had he been on his original flight, he would have been diverted due to the storms, and stuck in Oklahoma somewhere for the night.
Speaking of which, the storms were amazing. We sat on the front porch (with radar in hand since I don’t think Weston has a storm siren) and watched them roll in. The first storm wasn’t strong. Before long, the air was laden with the intoxicating fragrance of Privet (not unlike that of honeysuckle) from the rain beating on the tiny white blooms. Then the calm… The wind chime and trees were dead still before the second storm came through. It was loud, strong, and beautiful. All cuddled up in my blanket, with my legs thrown over Kevin’s lap, I was nearly lulled to sleep. Who needs TV? (Unless it’s football season, of course!) ;)
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