The Terrorific Tantrum

We started the week with a rough start. As you will soon see, that is a magnificent understatement. I was convinced that my life had turned into an Adam Sandler comedy and I have been keeping an eye out for the camera crew. This story would be funny if I wasn’t so embarrassed by my daughter’s unruly behaviour. When it's this bad, you have to laugh.

Before dawn on Monday, Buttercup woke up crying out for orange juice. I filled her request and stood beside her bed. She sleepily smiled at me, pointed and said, “I don’t like you.” This was a warning sign of things to come.

Later that morning, I couldn’t get anything right. Buttercup was getting more agitated. She wanted cereal but after seeing Strawberry’s pancake, she changed her mind even though she was close to finishing her breakfast. When it came time to leave the house she broke out the waterworks and tried to run and hide from me. I had to carry her to the garage and go back to lock up the house. Back at the car she had upset Strawberry with her loud display of protest. I found them both in tears.

For the life of me I could not get her to sit in her car seat to do up her seat belt. I drove the car out of our garage so that I could park in the lane way in order to manipulate the little monster. While I was driving she reached from her seat behind me and wrapped her hands around my neck and started strangling me.

I quickly pulled over and got out of the car. Hysteria had set in. There was nothing that I could do to punish her without sending both girls into a state of horror. I couldn’t get Buttercup to calm down. I tried every trick that previously had worked and nothing was flying except for the snot.

About twenty-five minutes of this and I had only managed to do the top strap of her belt. Thinking this was going to be as good as it gets, I decided to drive. I could hear her struggling and Strawberry animatedly let me know that she had pulled a Houdini. I stopped on a side road and ding, ding, ding: round two begins.

Top strap done up, I pull away on to a main street to be met with the same fate. I pull over even though this street is a high traffic area. I take Buttercup out of the car where we stand by her door on the road. She wraps her legs around me and clings like glue. Somehow I get her back into her seat and we are motoring again.

I pull up to Strawberry’s school very tardy. While I’ve separated myself from this disaster scene, both my girls are distraught. I try to offer hugs but the fight continues. Buttercup is trying to run away from me so I pick her up like a football. One of Strawberry’s good friends happens to arrive at the same time and they hold hands all the way to the office to get their late slips.

After I’ve hugged my four year old and sent her off to learn all the wonders of Junior Kindergarten, I try again to calm down my two year old. We stand outside the school and I become the negotiator. I am talking her down with distraction tactics. Finally I win and she lets me carry her a few blocks to her daycare. Her face is nuzzled into my neck the whole way. After giving her plenty of hugs and kisses while I offer explanations regarding her state to the caregivers, she looks up to me with the weight of sadness in her eyes. She doesn’t want me to leave.

And so, began our week.

Surprisingly the next morning everyone was a picture of happiness.

I don’t know how much more of two that I can take.