A Jen Too Many

I made a quick run with the girls to the grocery store last Saturday. They were wildly excited about the holiday and, before we'd gotten past the bakery section, were dashing wildly about playing some sort of running and shrieking game. They were admonished once as we passed the deli, twice in the produce, and again when we went down the salad dressing and condiments aisle.

In the soup aisle, I'd finally had enough. I stopped, called them to me (this took a few repetitions) and calmly pointed out that, although the prospect of fireworks was very exciting, there were a few truths that they were not recalling:

1) Treats and toys must be earned; possession of them is dependent upon good behavior.
2) Bad behavior will lose them treats and toys.
3) The treats and toys (snakes and snappers from the fireworks stand) that were promised to them following the grocery store visit were in serious jeopardy of being taken away.
4) It was in their best interests to calm down, stay near me, and play some game that was much quieter.

Halfway through my list, a shopper near us chuckled. As I finished I looked toward her and saw a white-haired woman watching us with a wide grin. She gave me a thumbs up and continued down the aisle, still chuckling to herself.

I was left feeling relieved I'd kept my temper and hadn't threatened anyone.* It's so much nicer, after all, when perfect strangers think you're a good mother.
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*I ran into an acquaintance at the store a few days before this, when I was doing our weekly shopping. She congratulated me on how well the girls were behaving. I confessed that she was only observing a momentary aberration and that the whining and fighting were driving me batty. She admitted in turn that she had been thinking of beating her four and then running over them with a truck. Ah, motherhood. It brings such joy. Such contentment. Such thoughts of violence.