Today Chloe had her first major tantrum. Actually, I think it was the first tantrum of its kind for any of our three girls—most certainly the biggest. The biggest in the history of tantrums. It. Was. Epic.
I told Chloe we were going out to the store to which she usually responds, “Yeah treats!” and I say, “Yeah treats are great!” but there are never any treats so I have no idea why she associates stores with treats but it gets her in the car.
Today instead of saying, “Yeah treats!” she scowled and tore off her socks while running in the opposite direction of the coat closet.
Hmmmm.
“Chloe, come on, we’re going to the store.” (Yeah treats! I mumbled to just myself) and she tore back up the hall toward me waving her freshly removed socks now worn as hand puppets in my direction and shouting, “I not go to the store! I NOT GO TO THE STORE!” If she wasn’t giving me the finger under those puppets I have no idea what kind of threat she was making but it looked serious.
“Yes, we are going to the store for a few minutes. Let’s put on your socks and your shoes.”
Knowing I actually had to wrestle her socks, shoes, coat, hat and gloves on as it was freezing outside but I didn’t want to send her into a deeper downward spiral with the lengthy to-do list our preparation for the outing might provoke.
“I NOT PUT ON MY COAT?” “I NOT GO TO THE STORE?” “I NOT HAVE ORANGES?”
She was shouting statements at me disguised as questions. That coupled with the sock mittens and I too was beginning to re-think my next move.
So, I gently picked her up and attempted to carry her to find a different pair of socks, fully accepting the pair on her hands was there by her choosing and I was not going to ask them to be removed.
She pulled “limp baby” on me, shooting her arms straight above her head while the rest of her body turned into one of those rubber sausages from the novelty store that every time you remove a hand to grip, it slips further away. She almost fell on the floor but I managed to scoop one arm under and firmly tell her, “Chloe, we are going to the store.”
She started to cry.
Big pause Mommy, is this outing really worth it? I was torn because I didn’t want her to think this was the solution to life’s problems. Wear sock mittens, become a sausage and shout nonsensical factoids in the form of questions when things aren’t going your way.
I proceeded with my plan to dress her and load her into the car.
“I HATE YOU FOREVA!”
Wow. That was pretty strong coming from a two year old who had found a new use for her hand covers—tissue.
“Mommy, are you mad?”
“No, I’m not mad. Are you mad?”
Her face turned red and she screamed as loud as I’ve ever heard someone protecting her hands from her own erratic movements, “I’m not mad? I’m Chloe!”
