It was one of those moments today, where you wished you could grab the nearest dog leash, rope it to one of your children, drag them to the closest sound proof room to have a good old fashioned vent about how their behaviour was affecting you.
Shepherding 4 children out the door, through the gate, down the driveway and into the car, 1 in the arms, 3 mobile, 1 fast walker, 1 slow walker, 1 doing what they were told, 1 not doing what they were told and 1 deliberately doing the opposite of what they were told.
Ultimately it was the 2 year old who turned it into a "please ground, open up and swallow me" moment. The baby grizzling, the 4 year olds sensing the desperation-about-to-turn-into-psychotic tone but Mr 2 was oblivious. Or perhaps he wasn't. Who knows, he's 2.
And in these moments, you're always alone. I wasn't surrounded by other out of control toddlers. I was surrounded by calm mothers, chuckling grandfathers and grandmothers holding the hands of their nicely behaved pre-schoolers chatting together about their day. Not to mention one of those calm mothers also being an off duty police officer who works in the child abuse department. All smiling sympathetically. Watching as I gritted my teeth, scooped up the 2 year old and marched everyone to the car... plotting my revenge... Next time we enter that building he will be in his stroller. Strapped in. Tightly.
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