With my son in the shopping cart and my five girls trailing behind, I wandered through the grocery store. Just a few essentials today, and perhaps a box of Popsicles, the kids have been real sweet and no one was running wild. Not that my kids run wild anywhere. The wrath of mom is to be feared, and acting like freaks in a store is the best way to make sure it attacks.

The girls chatter amongst themselves about who likes who, and who already has a cell phone.

“Mom, Christy got a cell phone for her birthday.” Caiti calmly throws out. She is not very subtle.

“Good for Christy.”

“She can text message, and take pictures, and her Mom can get a hold of her whenever.”

“That’s nice.”

“My birthday is coming up.”

“Kid, you are not getting a cell phone. We have the prepaid one for when you are out and about for emergencies, but that is it. When you get a job to pay your own bill, I will definitely consider it.” A huge pout crossed her lips. I had disappointed her once again. Realistically, it would not be the last time either. We could barely pay our bills, and cannot afford to add another bill because all her friend’s have cell phones.

Idle chatter filled our stroll, as we continued to shop for essentials. Then we turned the corner. We had heard crying as we walked around, but thought nothing of it, and now we were face to face with it’s origins.

A small boy, maybe about the age of four, was screaming as loud as he could. His little pink face red with this temper distorted with the creation of each blood-curling addition.

“YOU BETTER BUY IT FOR ME NOW! I WANT IT! I WANT IT! I WANT IT!”

I felt so bad for the lady pushing him about. Her haggard appearance and tired face made her look as though she wanted to collapse. I would have taken that child out of the store, and we would have had some serious alone time together in the car before returning, but who am I to tell another person how to parent?

“We just don’t have the money right now.” She whispered to the angry child. “Maybe next time I will get you one. Now hush so mommy can finish shopping.”

“YOU BETTER GET IT NOW!” the boy screamed. “OR.. OR…” and with that the boy picked up a can from the back of his cart and hurled it down the aisle.

I swear that by this point I just stood there and watched this horrific play continue. I wanted to go over there, and do something, but I did not. These days you interfere with another person’s child at your own peril.

“Mom!” Josh pulled my shirt, “did you see that? What is he doing?”

“Why doesn’t his mom do something, Mom?” Lyssa chimed in.

“Cause she is letting him act like a brat.” Sarafina answered.

“More like an asshole.” Threw in Caiti.

“Caitlin!” a chorus of voices protested the curse word.

“Well, he is.”

The boy continued to throw his mother’s cart items down the aisle. Cans of veggies, boxes of Hamburger Helper, and packets of gravy mix all fell victim to the child’s rage. Unable to watch any more we quickly went to another aisle.

“If we act like that you’d kick our butts.” Savannah declared loudly.

“Not to mention when we got home, and she told Dad.” Abby added

“Yeah” They all said in unison with a collective tone of ultimate doom.

We finished shopping in silence. All of us engaged in thoughts all our own. The screaming boy could be heard no matter what aisle we went down. There was just no way to justify his or his mother’s behavior in such a way that my kids would understand. Heck, I didn’t understand it.

“Hey, guys, how about a quick stop at Dairy Queen for a cone.” I asked them, as I started the car after loading our groceries into it. Sounds of celebratory approval shook the windows. They are good kids, and an ice cream was just what was needed to let them know I appreciated their good behavior.