Screaming Over Shoes

Micah and I work for 2 hours to get 4 dozen cupcakes made, iced, and sprinkled to take to school for his birthday tomorrow. Then I realize that I don't have anything to carry all those cupcakes in. So I yell, "Boys get your shoes on!"  I scurry around the kitchen tidying up before we run to the store. We've got just enough time to get there and back home before dinner time.

Then I look at Micah, still licking icing off a spoon.

"Micah, why don't you have your shoes or socks on?"
He ignores me. I ask again. He ignores me.
I grab my keys and purse, bundle Caleb up in 2 sweaters and a coat.
"I'm putting Caleb in the car. If I come back and your shoes aren't on, then I guess you don't get to wear shoes to Walmart."
He starts whining about how he doesn't know how to put his shoes or socks on. This is highly inaccurate. My first born has been putting on his own shoes for months and months. Especially this kind that just has two velcro strips and no laces.

He lies down on the floor and screams! "I...CANNOT...do it!" And to prove his point, he sticks one sock on three toes and says, "Look, LOOK! I tried!"

I leave the door open while I go buckle Caleb in the car. The whining turns to crying. He's heading for a melt-down.

I come back to the front door, where I peer in and see that he has his socks on but hasn't even attempted to put his shoes on. He's sitting on the floor glaring at me, arms crossed.

I pick him up and take him to the car. I am holding his shoes. They are not on his feet and it's freezing outside. He starts to scream, "I'm cold! I'M COLD!" I cling to my patience and try to remember what Kevin Lehman says-- every action must have a consequence. I think, "Don't bail him out, don't bail him out!"

I buckle him in to the car seat and hand him his shoes. As I walk around the car I see him throw them, one at a time, into the front seat. I get in, pick them up, and put them in his lap. Before he has a chance to throw them again I say, "If they aren't on your feet before we get to Walmart, you will go in without shoes."

Inside, I am thinking, "Please, put those shoes on so Mommy doesn't look like white trash inside Walmart!"

It's not looking so good though, because he begins to cry and scream in the backseat. And he keeps it up, at a very loud volume, during the entire 6 or 7 minute drive. He is showing no signs of letting up, when we turn into the parking lot. Suddenly it dawns on him that we've reached our destination and it's 'Do or Die.' Wear the shoes or be embarrassed....

He makes the wrong choice though... he begins to wail that I just have to help him get his shoes on. He is simply incapable of performing such a masterful feat today!

Channeling Dr. Lehman, once again, I say nothing. Load Caleb into a grocery cart, come to the other side of the car, open the door, extract my red-faced, stubborn child with the claws of life, set him in the back of the cart, and chunk his shoes in after him.

I brace myself, Hello, Walmart! We are white trash!

I head for the door at a sprint-- it's cold outside, and I do have a shoe-less child afterall.

This is when bad turns to down-right ugly...

Micah begins to yell. And his choice of phrase is unfortunate...

"Help me! Help me! AAAAGGGGGHHHHH! Help me!"

Now, I know that he's asking for me to help him put his shoes on. But are other people thinking he's shouting for actual physical aid? Is it possible someone will hear him and think I've abducted him?

I rush through the store and my eldest keeps up the tirade. Not at all embarrassed, my usually-shy child is relishing his performance. Every ten seconds his fury builds so high that he has to scream that throaty, top-of-the-lungs scream. He does it just to make sure I haven't forgotten that there is a weepy and angry child along for the ride.

Thankfully I don't have to go far into the store to get my cupcake tupperware. I beeline for the checkout, more than a little worried.

It's one thing to bring a child yelling, "Help me!" into a store. A different thing all-together to take them out...

He screams and cries, yelling, "Help me!" the entire time I am checking out. The cashier doesn't even seem to notice.

I head for the door-- the finish line is in sight! Just get home and put him in his bed, I think. But as I push the cart closer to the door, I imagine what I must look like, and I picture myself in lock-up. Mirrored room, County Sherriff's office. "This is your kid? Where's your proof?" they'd say!

"Yes, officer! He's mine! I was just trying to teach him that actions have consequences!"

I am picturing this ridiculous scene, when I am a few feet from the door and I suddenly see the store security guard waving me down.

Here we go, I think.

I stop and look at the older man. Suddenly wishing I had Micah's social security number memorized.

The man says, "Oh, it's ok, little buddy! You're going home now!" to Micah. He waves us out of the store.

I am grateful that he's letting us go. I am also making a mental note that security at Walmart is extremely inadequate!

Poor, bewildered Caleb makes it back into the car. Micah is next, screaming and fighting the whole way. I drop his shoes on his lap and say, "You cannot have dinner until you get your shoes on."

Five minutes into my drive I suddenly realize that there is actually silence in the car. Blissful silence. I'd been tuning out the yelling, so I have no idea when it stopped. I turn back to look at Micah and he is fast asleep. Head bobbing against his chest. Shoes securely on his feet.

I am happy that this fight is over!

We pull in the driveway. I try to rouse him out of sleep, but it takes some effort. "Micah. Micah!"

He opens his eyes, looks at me, and his little lip turns down as he starts to cry! "I need help!" he says. "I..sob...can't...shoes!"

"Micah! Micah, honey, you did do it. Your shoes are on your feet."

He looks down. Says, "Oh."

And doesn't stop crying for another 90 minutes.

OH MY WORD!

I've said it many times before, and I really think it's true. My kids try to test us every six months or so. They'll put up a big fight, see how much they can take over in a week or so. Then they give up. Micah's been pushing the limits all week. I should have known this explosion was coming!