My 2 year old Ivy, is one of ‘those’ toddlers. She can and will melt down over thin air at any given moment, leaving us often gawping at her open-mouthed wondering what the reason is this time.
She’s done it on many occasions in various locations, Aldi being her current fave spot (I’ve shifted to Mozzas out of hours, post-7pm), and once she’s set to, she is impossible to coax out of it.
I turn into THAT parent, the one at the tills with the toddler wailing, spread-eagled on the floor, blocking every Tom, Dick and Harry’s path, their eyes burning into the back of my scull as I hastily pay for the one thing I managed to pick up.
We’ve all been there, haven’t we?
I’m crimson, I’ve offered her a biscuit, a cuddle, her dummy, I’ve done all your usual cajoling whilst being judged by Marjorie in the queue who’s covering her ears to drown out the din.
We are leading to the finale, the shopping trip I had in my head is over, my brain is on the way to the car already.
But then, as I’m about to join Ivy on the floor and cry my own tears of embarrassment, a tap on the shoulder from a fellow mum passing by. A friendly smile, and offer of help, as she pushes my pram away from the tills.
I’m instantly restored by the face of someone who understands this plight, I adjust my crown, flash the queue a winning smile, and scoop up my writhing bundle of joy, in what we fondly refer to as ‘the log carry’.
It involves Ivy lying rigid like a log, unceremoniously being carried under one of my arms while the other pushes the pram to the door and freedom.
I thank the MOLO, and she reassures me that yesterday she was me. Safety in numbers and solidarity in shared experiences, I think.
The car journey was preferable to the shopping trip and obviously, Ivy decided she would have the biscuit after all.
You can read more from Kayleigh on her blog Life With Bertie and Bee
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