Boy did Erin ever pull out all the stops tonight. She and I ran over to Walgreens together. I had to run in for a few things and brought Erin along because I figured she could pick out a birthday card for Mommy. But then I made the mistake of turning down the toy aisle.
"OOOOHHHH!!!!! DADOO!!! Can I have a ball?"
"You have a ball already Erin, and you hardly ever play with it."
"Yeah... but I only have, like, 3 balls at home. And this one has Spongebob on it. Why can't I have another?"
"You don't need another ball."
"Please Dadoo?"
"No Erin. Come on, let's go."
"Please please please please PLEASE Dadoo."
"No. We're not here for a ball. Let's go."
Then she spots the pillow pets.
"Oh DADOO!!! Can I please have the Ladybug pillow pet? I've wanted her for a long long time."
"Well, your birthday is in a few weeks, so we'll wait and see what happens."
Erin begins to force out some tears (for anyone who has not yet had children of their own... it is pretty clear when your child is crying real tears of sadness or distress versus when they are simply trying to manipulate a situation with some bogus waterworks. This was a clear case of the latter).
"But Dadoo, I REALLY REALLY REALLY REALLY REALLY want the ladybug."
"Erin, I said maybe for your birthday."
Erin puts her head down and under her breath mutters "I guess I'm never going to get one then." Now I'm getting irritated.
"You're right... not with that attitude," I disgustedly reply. "Let's go."
More tears, whimpering, and soft muttering to herself ensue as we make our way through the store filling up our basket. Finished with our shopping, we make our way towards the front of the store, Erin moping all the way. Looking to call a truce (and ultimately losing the battle by rewarding her for her lousy behavior), I say to Erin, "Why don't you pick out a piece of candy for yourself on the way out?"
Erin, of course, makes a beeline for a particular box of Gummi Hamburgers that she has purchased before. On that prior occasion, she ate one of the candies from the box, made a face while complaining about how disgusting it was, and Laur ended up throwing away the entire box of candy.
"Dadoo, I want these."
"No. Put them back and pick out something that you actually like."
More tears. They start out quiet and gentle, but begin quickly to build to a sort of crescendo.
"But I want these... I really like them... they have Spongebob on the box... why can't I have them?"
Deep breath. Have patience, I think to myself.
"Erin, I've bought them for your before and you hated them. I'm not wasting any money on them. Pick out something you like. Maybe a Hershey bar, or a Kit Kat, or a Peppermint Patty."
"Are you mad at me!?!?!?" Borderline hysterics from Erin at this point.
"I'm getting there Erin. Pick out some other candy or you'll get nothing."
"But Dadoo, I really want..."
"That's it! Come on. We're leaving."
"Dadoo, I'll have a Peppermint Patty. Please don't be mad at me."
At this point I am totally flustered myself, trying to figure out how letting my child pick out a piece of candy turned into this traumatic scene. As we head towards the counter, Erin gets in one last, masterful little manipulative comment. She says it quietly, almost under her breath again. It makes me think of Marie Barone from "Everybody Loves Raymond", of all people.
"I guess you don't even want to talk to me anymore. Ever again. This is probably one of the worst days of my life."
As frustrated and angry as I was, it took every ounce of self-control that I possess to not burst out laughing hysterically at this quiet little outburst of melodrama. Sheesh.
Then, as we get to the car, Erin caps off the entire experience with this,
"Dadoo, when we get home, don't tell Mommy about this."
"About what?"
"About THIS... what just happened... you know, in the STORE."
"Umm, OK. Why can't I tell Mommy?"
"Because she'll probably be mad at me."
Double sheesh.
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