When a trip to Walmart involved a tantrum and accusations of abuse, I learned to see the best in people.
It was the middle of the Kindergarten Year From Hell. B was two – a tightly wound package of tenacity operating on filched Hershey Kisses and six hours of sleep a night. We dropped her sister off at school, and though I knew I should go straight home, I stopped at Walmart for a few items.
The store was largely empty at 8:15 that morning. My cart’s wheel rattled like the gates of the underworld, a fitting omen I ignored. Attempting to exit the store prior to a meltdown, I forged onward into the breach, sliding graham cracker peace offerings to my sleepy toddler.
But it was not to be. As we walked past the accessory department, B’s eyes landed on the toddler equivalent of the one ring: a sparkling pink purse, bedecked with rhinestones and glitter, and, ever-fetchingly, shaped like a dog.
My little Smeagol stared at the purse. She turned to me.
“Mommy? Can I get that?”
Walk a little faster, Ginny. Keep on moving. Distraction, distraction, distraction.
“Mommy! Dog purse!”
I patted Smeagol on the head. “No, love. Not today.”
You know that scene in The Lord of the Rings when Gollum gets all bug-eyed crazy?
Yep. Not even close. You would have thought I had killed her goldfish the way that child lit into me. In the Kochis Family Book of Grandest Meltdowns of All Time, this is number two (number one was courtesy of her older sister, an infinite road trip, and a missing brownie, but I digress). There was screaming. Crying. Wailing and gnashing of teeth. And if that wasn’t enough, there were desperate cries for her father:
“I want Daaaaaadddddyyyyyyy. IIIIIIII waaaaannnntttt myyyyyy Daaaaaddddyyyyyy!!!!!!”
In her defense, she was two. She was also super tired, super anxious, and super effective at soaking up all the stress in the household. I tried to keep that in mind as I made my way down the aisle.
I didn’t get far, though. A woman came up beside me, her brows furrowed, lips pursed in a frown.
“Is she alright? I could hear her from across the store!”
I had been a mother long enough to know when someone was genuinely concerned or about to offer a scolding. This was clearly the latter.
“She’s fine, ma’am. She’s just mad I won’t buy her a doggy purse.”
“Why is she screaming for her father? Are you pinching her?”
Say what?
“You must be pinching or hurting her somehow. None of my kids ever did this!”
My hand slipped off the cart handle, slick with nervous sweat. My legs wobbled. My throat tightened. I think I just looked at her, wide-eyed, muttered something about never, ever hurting my child, and took off down an adjacent aisle.
But she followed me. All through the store – food, housewares, pharmacy – she stayed about ten steps behind. B eventually calmed down, only to start up again once we reached the checkout aisle. She wanted a gourmet lollipop.
I said no.
“DAAAAAADDDDDYYYYYYY!!!!!!!”
The woman reappeared in an instant. “You are abusing that child. Normal children don’t do this. What are you doing to her?!?”
My face flushed. Tears pricked my eyelids. The entire population of the store’s front end was fixated on the unfolding scene.
Escape. Get to the door. Get out to the parking lot. Get in the car.
Now that I am far removed from the moment, I can give that woman the benefit of the doubt.
I would like to think that she had no ill will in her pursuit as she followed me out of the store, even though her continued accusations bit the back of my neck.
I would like to think she spoke up out of true concern for my child, even though she did not cease when I assured her all was well.
I would like to think that we might be friends given other circumstances, even though I cried in my car for a solid ten minutes, rehearsing what I would say to CPS when they arrived.
I would like to think all of that.
All I can do for certain is forgive her, and hope I am forgiven, too.
I have been like her.
I have questioned parenting choices, judging decisions and labeling them detrimental. I have assumed the worst of others as my accuser did of me, reveling in my superior detraction. I have been remiss in my duty to give to others what I needed on that morning: a kind word, a knowing smile, a genuine “I’ve been there.”
Being a parent of is hard. There are sleepless nights, repetitive conversations, and unbelievable tantrums. As long as we are in this beautiful mess together, raising good little people who will someday inherit this earth, why can’t we assume the best of others, and, in so doing, teach our children the same? Civility, gentleness, compassion, and empathy need a comeback, and we as parents are poised at the top of a watershed opportunity for its return.
So I will start here, at the intersection of appearance and reality. I will believe that those I encounter have the best of intentions.
Can I count on you to do the same?
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So enjoyed reading this again! You are a good soul!
I learned from the best, mom. Love you.
I have had those Smeagol moments in stores before too. But I think mine were more like Gollum… not to LOTR you too much, friend, but isn’t he Smeagol when he’s nice and Gollum when he’s evil? Just sayin’ 😉
Ok, this post is so moving. People can be awful. And two-year-olds can act like two-year-olds. Thanks for sharing this with us!
Yep – which is why I differentiated between the two 🙂 She was sweet at first!
Glad you enjoyed the post. Thanks for reading.
Oh wow. 🙁 I can’t imagine how you must have felt. I am so sorry that happened to you. I have been in many similar situations with my two sons and thank God no one has ever accused me of this. I don’t know how I would have handled it.
It seems to me as though she reacted strangely to your daughter’s tantrum, most people with children get that there is no “normal” some days. 🙂
Thanks for sharing!
I think you are right. It certainly seems that way! The only thing I can figure is that she just didn’t remember what it was like to have little ones. Either that, or her children were amazing 🙂
What a wonderful post. There’s no better way to tell a story with a deeper message than with humor and pathos. (My nephew, when he was around three, used to get his way in the store by yelling “stop hurting me!” I kid you not.)
I’m sure some people will read this and think, okay, the woman who trailed you in Walmart had the best intentions. Maybe she did. Maybe a child screaming as loudly as yours could have been in trouble. But here’s the thing; shaming and accusations aren’t the way to reach out to help either the parent or the child. I’ve taught nonviolence for years and you’ve hit on the crux of approaching people to help, nonviolently, when there really is a problem — “civility, gentleness, compassion and empathy.” It is important to follow our intuition if we think a child is in danger. But we can do it in a way that promotes understanding and builds compassion. Here’s more on that: lauragraceweldon.com/2011/10/13/get-involved-when-its-none-of-your-business/
And kudos to you for not buying the doggy purse or gourmet lollipop. You’d just have taught your daughter to scream more loudly to get what she wanted. (Although, ahem, there’s a doggy purse in my house…..)
Laura, you are totally right. Thanks for sharing that post – I’ll definitely check it out.
Also, thanks for your solidarity in my decision not to give in. Would you believe we already had a doggy purse? And one that came with a baby otter?
I shared your article today on the Free Range Learning community Facebook page. You’ve really struck a chord, it’s only been up for three hours and already reached thousands.
I’m so sorry you had to go through this. It’s an important read during an era where it feels very uneasy to be a parent -whether due to others’ quick judgements, lack of patience for anyone who creates what is perceived as inconvenience, a cultural tendency to want to see things as black and white and punish perceived outliers. The funny thing is that child abuse would be one of the last things I would be thinking of with a 2 year old tantrum because a child who is being abused doesn’t usually feel safe to let it all out so to speak.
Agreed. And thank you. Now that I’m far beyond it, my tendency is to feel more sorrow for her. I honestly think she had just forgotten what it was like to have small children.
I am one who has followed parents around Wal-Mart before. I never said anything, but I wanted to let them know someone was watching. But in every case it was because I had actually heard parents saying abusive things to children. I think most parents ought to be able to recognize a tantrum!
You would hope so, wouldn’t you?
Eek. I know the feeling. I had to drop a document in a drop box, which was located about 10 feet inside of the (glass) double doors of the building. I couldn’t pull up directly in front of the doors, so I pulled into the closest available spot. I knew that it would take less than 30 seconds to run from my car to the drop box and back again. It was a cool day, 50ish degrees. My kids–6, 4, 2–were in their car seats. I locked all the doors, got out of my seat, told them where I was going, and took a few brisk steps away from the car. Then I heard a woman yelling at me from her parked car: “YOU JUST GONNA LEAVE YOUR KIDS IN THE CAR??????” I held up the document and told her I was just leaving it in the dropbox. She gave me a stern look but nodded. I sprinted in, dropped it, and sprinted back, but I was still breaking out in that cold sweat and shakiness. After all, the building was the DHS building. What if the lady had marched in with my license plate number and “told on me” then and there? I’d like to think that I would have been exonerated for my 30 seconds or less. But…in today’s climate? I’m not at all sure.
Yuck. I’m sorry that happened to you. It’s the worst.
I’m glad you linked back to this. Sending so much love and support back to the younger Ginny!
The woman who was accusing you and following you around is clearly mentally unstable. She didn’t see you pinch your child and yet accused you and continually followed you around even outside Walmart.
I’ve seen other kids cry and wail in public and I felt bad for the mom. It’s very stressful for them. Sometimes I would tell the mom that it will get better with maturity and that my child also did the same for a time but not anymore. They usually smile and feel hopeful and more relaxed.
My child didn’t really cry loudly or wail but different children react in different ways & we are not in a position to judge but offer support to their moms.