So this morning, in a vain attempt to make my kids STOP FIGHTING ALREADY, I decided to take them to our local library where there be free books, free Internet, and free librarians who will give my kids the fish eye if they so much as whisper.
Things were going well – kids were reading Far Side books (Gary Larsen FTW!), I was working, library was quiet.
Until the Psycho Three Year Old arrived.
We’re all familiar with the PTYO. In public places, this tiny but powerful being loves to assert his authority by screaming. Loudly. With gusto. For prolonged periods of time until people (me) start ovulating; misguidedly, but well-meaningly.
What I mean by that previous confusing sentence is this: I walked out of the library to the lobby where the PTYO was pitching a fit the likes of which I haven’t seen since my kids were that age. So, a while. I nicely asked the grandma type if there was “anything I could do to help”, which is polite speak for COULD YOU PLEASE SHUT THAT FREAKING KID UP.
After about five minutes of me reassuring her that she was doing the right thing by not giving in to his demands, I offered her my portable syringe of Valium and went my merry way. Yeah, if only – I save that for my OWN kids, not some crazy ankle biter that I just met!
Anyway, he’s quiet now. My work is done.
I think the librarian has some grudging respect for me. She keeps looking over at me with something that looks like respect. But maybe her fish eye is just not all the way up to speed.