Breakdown

By and large, Jack is a good kid. For not quite being 3, he doesn't cause too many problems. Granted, he tries to push it as far as possible, but rare are the days were he's naughty from dawn to dusk.

Sunday was a pretty normal day in our house. After his nap, we headed out to get groceries and things. He's to the stage where he sees things on the shelves and asks if he can have it. "Can I have that?" "Ooooo! I can I have that?" "Look at those cookies! Can I have those?"

No.

That's the stock answer, and he never seems to get too worked up about it. In Hy-Vee, he was in fine form, asking for everything. And, of course, I was saying no. Hy-Vee is a lot like other grocery stores — along with the food and supplies, there are little trinkets tossed in every so often. There's a little display of scale-model die-cast cars that has caught Jack's eye a number of times, so he asked to see it.

I was in full-on "no" mode. No Jack, we don't need that. No, Jack. No.

Screeeeeeeam!

He really wanted to see the model cars. Also, everybody in Hy-Vee knew he wanted to see the model cars.

I got nose to nose with him and reminded him that he knew the right way to ask for things. He did, of course, ask the right way, but the scream was poor form. He was given a choice: quiet down and sit in the cart at checkout or go straight to the car. Another screech.

Straight to the car it was, then.

Holy crap. You've seen that kid being dragged out of the store, kicking and wailing. Many of you have probably been on both sides — both dragging and wailing. I'm in the club now. Because that kid freaked the hell out. While Chris was left to chuckle in the checkout line, I had a bundle of rage tucked under my arm as I hightailed it out the door.

Once in the car, he tried to get out of his seat. He kicked, he hit. It was a fairly spectacular show.

I got him buckled in, he wailed for a minute more and then got quiet.

"Mom and Daddy, did you see that bird? He was flapping his wings!"

And then we were right back to normal.