eight-year-old had a meltdown. it just doesn't happen that often, so when it does, we are caught a little off guard. okay, extremely off guard.
"i cannot take you in the store if you are crying." i patiently say, "we will have to stay in the car until you stop." yeah, i said it, i don't know what i was thinking, really.
mm and other kids head in. "hey mommy, i'm not crying. i'm a good girl." three-year-old just has to add. "i'm not crying either, mommy," six-year-old brags. nice.
"i can't stop crying," eight-year-old wails. "because i want to go in the store and you aren't letting me."
ah, a catch-22. i'm game. we sit. and sit. i think about how i'm not going to be able to sneak those double stuf oreos into the cart. or the rolos. or the bacon... grr.
"i haven't had any fun today." she whines.
"me either." i can whine too.
"this is so unfair!" she continues.
"tell me about it." i think about the bacon.
finally, the impasse is over. we head into the store, hand in hand.
and, as usual, for the life of me, i cannot even remember what started the whole thing.
sweet mother of bacon.