I had a thought this morning as I was picking up a few essential items at Walmart. I am seriously wondering if the moodiness of one's daughter is directly proportional to how out of whack one's hormones were during pregnancy. If so, I'm in big trouble. Huge.
There we were, everything was fine, and then I went to pick up some cards for baby gifts because all of the sudden there seems to be another round of pregnancy going around. I get that with deployments and homecomings, but that doesn't apply to the current trend of preggo friends and family. S zoned in on a card. Which card I couldn't tell you, because every single card I pointed to (and I truly feel I pointed to all the baby cards within her range of vision) brought this response, "Nooooo. The BABY card." I think it's pretty established that while I can be pretty patient, I'm not always patient, especially when I feel that the event I'm trying to be patient for is a ploy to drive me a couple steps closer to insanity. Yes, like today.
I did manage to remain calm, but I also rolled the cart away from the card display and the Divine Miss S, resident diva, was not impressed, nor was she shy about expressing that vocally: volume level 8+. Sometimes distracting her works. Today it did not. I'm starting to wonder if it's just something with S and Walmart, because she doesn't do this at Target. Luckily there was a little girl in the cart in front of us as I rolled us up to the one open line that allowed more than 20 items. (Side note - if you've ever heard of Christine Lavin, the 20 items or less line always makes me think of her song "Shopping Cart of Love") The little girl was perfectly behaved and obviously bewildered by S's wailing and vocal pyrotechnics. I pointed out how well behaved the little girl was (which really - when does that EVER work) and S turned around, looked at her, looked back at me, and said, "I. Don't. Want. To." The little girl, who is my new hero, looks at S and says, "You're too loud. Loud girls don't get pretty new shoes. I have pretty new shoes. See?"
HAHAAAAHAAHAHAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
S looks at back at her, looks at the girl's shoes, which were preeeeeety sweet, and looks at me for confirmation. I, while biting my lip to keep from laughing out loud, attempt to nod seriously in agreement. "Yep" I manage. "She's right." S gives me the stink eye (it's a good thing we aren't Italian, because I would be too cursed by now to survive much longer) and stage whispers, "I have pretty shoes already." Touche, resident diva.
BUT - and this is the amazing part - S looks at the little girl and says, "Sorry. I too loud" Uh, come again? Did the tantrum demon finally make room for the common sense one? Whatever, I'll take it! The little girl gives S a head nod and smiles. I look at the little girl's mom who is trying not to laugh too (and probably thanking God and anyone else who can hear her thoughts for her daughter) and she just gives me a smile and a shrug.
Mark this day down people!
The rest of our wait to check out was uneventful. And peaceful. And S spent a lot of time looking at her own shoes, deep in thought.
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