Saturday, October 17, 2015


Dear Four,

I forgot how much fun you are! You are verbal, more independent, funny, sweet, caring, and a damn nightmare all rolled into five minutes. Sometimes I wonder about you, Four. Are you bi-polar? Do you have anger management issues? Will you ever communicate in a way that does not involve tears and screaming? Yes, I know my sweet Four that you will grow of it and thankfully this time around your meltdowns are not as dramatic, but holy hell you are unpredictable.

Just this past weekend you showed us how glorious Four is. Our neighborhood grocery store has mini carts for its teeniest shoppers. You were in heaven! Four, you were so helpful. You pushed groceries, you were patient, you were so happy. Then we checked out and you had to leave the mini cart. Four, you yelled so loudly the entire grocery store stopped in its tracks. The pitch of your scream literally pains my ears. Were you hurt? Was your arm broken? Did you get slashed with a knife and are bleeding to death? No. No, none of those things were happening. You had to put the damn cart away. For fucks sake, it is a cart and we have one at home!! "I WANT MY CART!!" was heard from the check out line until we walked out the store. On lookers stared at me while you screamed with tears and snot streaming down your face. I ignored you. I have seen this show before. I walked to the car, pushing the groceries, saying every few minutes, "We have a cart at home."

What amazes me about you, Four, is you do not remember I do not negotiate with terrorists. Two days later at Target, I needed to pick something up at customer service. I ordered it on line and clicked in store pick up. Happily you walked into the store, you love Target. I walked passed the carts toward customer service. You and your sister stopped. You wanted to ride in the "fun cart."  I explained I was picking something up, it would take two minutes, and we did not need a cart. "I WANT A CART" was screamed, and cried, and filled with gasps of air as you snotted your way from the cart corral to customer service. I walked to customer service, ignoring you. I picked up my item while you screamed. Your sister tried to reason with you while I laughed internally. There is no reasoning with Four. None.  Then you stopped and asked, "Next time?" As we left, the Target employees and other parents commented how cute you were and I rolled my eyes.  Tantrums are not cute.

Four, you screamed and cried and snotted when your lollipop fell, when your bike made a noise, when the Halloween inflatables were not blown up, when your sister's bus was late, when your snack fell, when your doll's glasses fell off, when you finished your waffle, when you wanted a different snack, when your shoes that were too small were returned, when the hill was too muddy, when you wanted to wear a jacket in 80 degrees, when you are told no, when there is not enough time to watch Team Umizoomi, this list goes on and on and on and turn that smile into a tantrum in 60 seconds or less with no warning.

Each tantrum you get no response from me. I have learned. I wait for the storm to be over. There is no point in telling you to stop, there is no point in trying to make you understand. You, Four, are a child incapable of rational thoughts. I breathe deeply, ignore you, and continue what I am doing. Some days the tantrum is 30 seconds, sometimes it is 2 minutes, sometimes 10 minutes.

Four, you will learn. I know this. All you want is to be heard and I understand. One day soon you will not scream, you will not cry, and you will not snot when you are mad.

Until that day I say, "FUCK YOU, FOUR."

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