I was somewhat critical before I had a child of my own. I guess that many people are. We didn't have children. We didn't understand. Why can't parents teach their children how to behave? If I had a child I wouldn't let it behave like that.
I was wrong.
I was so wrong.
I was humbled.
Angus was bored. He is, afterall, a curious, adventurous 20 month old who wants to look at things, explore them. He hasn't met everything there is to see in life yet, and he is aware of that. He wants to see, touch, taste, explore, hold, gravity test, and experience life to its fullest. I wanted to look at the piles of paper. He didn't. He screamed. Then he screamed some more. I tried to distract him. He wanted to be out of his buggy. I wanted to look at paper in peace. He wanted to run around. I wanted to choose a paper knife. He wanted to look at the glue. I tried to calm him down. He didn't want to be distracted from the tubes of glue that he was busy dropping on the floor. I tried to encourage him to put them back on the shelf. He wanted to crinkle up the shiny gold paper. I didn't want to have to buy it at £1.50 a sheet. I encouraged him to look at something unbreakable. That wasn't interesting. I tried to put him back in his buggy. He didn't want to go and did the rigid plank thing accompanied by screams of protest. I tried to encourage him to have a drink. The bottle ended up ricocheting off a stand of stamps spraying milk.
I quickly chose some cardstock.
I apologised.
I paid.
I left.
We went to the cafe.
He smiled sweetly.
"Oh, you have such a lovely little boy. How old is he?"
Pictures of Scotland in glorious sunshine. Angus paddling in a Loch with Dad and Grandma.
