We have a VERY firm policy of not hitting/spanking Cole. Ever. John and I were both spanked as children and we feel that it did nothing to make us better behaved, and everything to make us feel like hitting is a way to solve problems. We both had trouble with fighting as kids (though only when provoked), and I wonder if it had anything to do with the hitting we saw demonstrated at home. The ONLY time I see it as an acceptable measure is if the child's actions would have led to serious harm coming to themselves or to another. Only then it is a logical consequence.
But yesterday... ooohh boy, yesterday tried my resolve.
Cole has a supernumerary tooth, which I believe I've mentioned in the past. Because of this, we have to take him to a special pediatric dentist. However, because we also live in the middle of Senior Citizen/Nowheresville, we have to travel over an hour to get to his dentist. Which sucks. As if having to pay for a special dentist wasn't enough, I also have to take half a day off work to go...
Anyway.
We had to leave before Cole's normal lunch (breaking routine), and, though I can vouch for the fact that his bean/cheese/rice burrito was especially delicious, he was having just about none of it, instead insisting to me every 5 seconds that he MUST have apple juice and NOW please. So, no lunch was ingested - at least, not enough to make a difference.
So he slept on the way down, had his juice (SUGAR!!), and was a precious doll for the Dentist. He even made it through a full cleaning, which shocked the hell out of the Technician. He collected his toy and sticker prizes and we went on our merry way.
And then I had the GALL to go into a store to look at shoes.
He was happy enough at first, trying on all the ladies' shoes (too funny to watch him trying to walk in open-back heels with the plastic security tie still connecting them), but when he wouldn't hold my hand or stay next to me in the line to pay, the shit hit. And by 'shit' I mean Cole.
He screamed and screeched in my arms, first hitting and kicking me, then head-butting me when I pinned his arms. There was no way to put him in time out, there was no way I could just walk away. I had to hold him, pinned and pissed, until I completed my transaction and could walk out. And I wanted, at that moment, to slap him back, just to show him how it felt.
But I didn't, and he had calmed down by the time we got to the car. We had a chat about his horrible behavior and we went on with our day, which turned out pretty nicely afterall. And I felt better because all I had to endure was the embarrassment of having "that toddler" for a little while in front of people I don't know and will probably never see again, instead of the crushing guilt I would have felt for hitting him.
And it was worth it, because I also came away with a pair of bright red, patent, slingback, wedge-heel Kenneth Cole heels. And shiny red shoes make everything a little better.
