THE TODDLER
When you were born, you cried and the world rejoiced. Live your life so that when you die, the world cries and you rejoice.
-Cherokee Expression
*AUTHOR'S NOTE: This story was penned with inspiration from the heartwarmers.com 16th April 2001 issue: Supermarket Tantrums, written by Teri Goggin. Any resemblance to anyone living or deceased is purely coincidental.
Wheezing and shaking uncontrollably with laughter, he surveyed the chaos all around him. Chips were strewn untidily all over the wooden floor and ketchup was oozing down from the table, creating crimson puddle after crimson puddle. Some other disgusted patrons had slimy spaghetti dangling from their heads, making them look like mops. A young trainee waitress promptly gave a little scream and swooned, collapsing on the floor with a thump. The entire restaurant was in a deep hush, but still, the toddler kept giggling and gurgling, wiping his small grubby hands on his soiled dungarees while his mother could only stare in shock, too stunned to even move.
It was a crisp, clear mid-December evening. Christmas decorations, from the tacky to the sublime, were everywhere, and Christmas music gently hummed from every speaker in every store and restaurant. It was my favourite month of the year again, a time to soak in the sights and smells of the Yuletide season.
After a hectic day of Christmas shopping, my family decided to have our dinner at a restaurant in the shopping mall. While my parents buried their noses in the menus, I watched the twinkling Christmas tree standing at the entrance of the restaurant, marveling at its brilliance and the magical feeling Christmas brought.
As people-watching had always been my favourite past-time, my gaze was naturally diverted to a hyperactive toddler seated at the next table. To pass time while his mother tried to retrieve his helium-filled balloon, which had floated into the air, the child slithered down the side of his chair, snaking his way under and past my feet until he found freedom!
Crawling at full speed across the restaurant, he dashed under other tables, much to the amusement of the other patrons who apparently thought he was quite entertaining. Unfortunately, their innocent smiles and chuckles only encouraged the monkey child's rogue behaviour.
When his mother finally caught him, he let his little body go limp like a cat and giggled playfully as she tried to fold him into position again at the table.
Once in a while, a sympathetic waitress would come over to ask if everything was alright. I then noticed the poor mother tucking furiously into her food. I presumed she could not wait to race out of the restaurant with her son to avoid further public embarrassment.
As I was enjoying my dinner, I heard the mother's loud and shrill voice boom across the restaurant, "SIT DOWN!"
Distracted by her sudden outburst of anger, I sat bolt upright, casting a look at her direction. It was only then did I suddenly notice something round and flat speeding towards me in the air. Swiftly, I dodged and the mysterious flying saucer crashed into my plate of noodles a few seconds later. Taking a closer look at it, I realized with great astonishment that it was a plate full of chips!
Suddenly, there was another earsplitting crash and a few people yelled. Spinning around, I found the object of disturbance. While the mother was busy chattering on her mobile phone, her little boy had seized the opportunity of standing triumphantly on his chair, clutching his plates of spaghetti and chips, and flung the plates across the room like freebees in different directions.
Hooting and chortling at his accomplishments, he had now snatched a saltshaker from his messy table overflowing with ketchup, threatening to hurl it at our table. He must have felt a strange excitement taking hold of him, for his eyes were gleaming with anticipation. The mother appeared glued to her seat. With her mouth gaped wide open, she merely stared at her monkey child in disbelief.
I was totally stunned by his audacity! Watching him raise his arm and aiming the saltshaker at me, I stifled my urge to scream. Another surge of fear caused me to give an involuntary shudder. Just then, I released my grip of the fork. It fell onto the wooden floors with a loud thud. The atmosphere in the restaurant had become particularly tensed. Every diner seemed to focus his attention on the cherub-faced child, wondering if he would calm down and hoping his mother would do something to stop her toddler's fits.
In order not to startle him, the captain moved quickly and quietly and somehow managed to grab the saltshaker away before any more harm was done. A quick-witted waitress hurriedly brought along a high chair to buckle the kicking body into the seat.
All hell broke loose when the howling and wiggling boy found himself strapped into the high chair. His protests and piercing wails rang out, bouncing off the ceilings and echoing throughout the restaurant. His tiny fists pounded the sides of the high chair furiously, as if wrestling with it.
Meanwhile, his mother pushed back her chair and stood up wearily. When she finally found the strength to talk, she whispered softly to the captain and waitress, "Thank you. You'll both go to heaven for this."
Her rescuers simply smiled and nodded their heads as thunderous applause rang out from all four corners of the restaurant, causing even the little monkey child to stare silently and curiously at the giants who had imprisoned him, holding him captive in the high chair.
Now, whenever I listen to complaints, wails and howls ringing out around me, I remember that monkey child with the cherubic face. I realize that tantrums are Mother Nature's way of making all parents with grown-up children within earshot thankful that their 'babies' have grown.
To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven. A time to be born, and a time to die; A time to plant, and a time to pluck up that which is planted; A time to kill, and a time to heal; A time to break down, and a time to build up; A time to weep, and a time to laugh; A time to mourn, and a time to dance; A time to cast away stones, and a time to gather stones together; A time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing; A time to get, and a time to lose; A time to keep, and a time to cast away; A time to rend, and a time to sew; A time to keep silence, and a time to speak; A time to love, and a time to hate; A time of war, and a time of peace.
-Ecclesiastes
When you were born, you cried and the world rejoiced. Live your life so that when you die, the world cries and you rejoice.
-Cherokee Expression
*AUTHOR'S NOTE: This story was penned with inspiration from the heartwarmers.com 16th April 2001 issue: Supermarket Tantrums, written by Teri Goggin. Any resemblance to anyone living or deceased is purely coincidental.
Wheezing and shaking uncontrollably with laughter, he surveyed the chaos all around him. Chips were strewn untidily all over the wooden floor and ketchup was oozing down from the table, creating crimson puddle after crimson puddle. Some other disgusted patrons had slimy spaghetti dangling from their heads, making them look like mops. A young trainee waitress promptly gave a little scream and swooned, collapsing on the floor with a thump. The entire restaurant was in a deep hush, but still, the toddler kept giggling and gurgling, wiping his small grubby hands on his soiled dungarees while his mother could only stare in shock, too stunned to even move.
It was a crisp, clear mid-December evening. Christmas decorations, from the tacky to the sublime, were everywhere, and Christmas music gently hummed from every speaker in every store and restaurant. It was my favourite month of the year again, a time to soak in the sights and smells of the Yuletide season.
After a hectic day of Christmas shopping, my family decided to have our dinner at a restaurant in the shopping mall. While my parents buried their noses in the menus, I watched the twinkling Christmas tree standing at the entrance of the restaurant, marveling at its brilliance and the magical feeling Christmas brought.
As people-watching had always been my favourite past-time, my gaze was naturally diverted to a hyperactive toddler seated at the next table. To pass time while his mother tried to retrieve his helium-filled balloon, which had floated into the air, the child slithered down the side of his chair, snaking his way under and past my feet until he found freedom!
Crawling at full speed across the restaurant, he dashed under other tables, much to the amusement of the other patrons who apparently thought he was quite entertaining. Unfortunately, their innocent smiles and chuckles only encouraged the monkey child's rogue behaviour.
When his mother finally caught him, he let his little body go limp like a cat and giggled playfully as she tried to fold him into position again at the table.
Once in a while, a sympathetic waitress would come over to ask if everything was alright. I then noticed the poor mother tucking furiously into her food. I presumed she could not wait to race out of the restaurant with her son to avoid further public embarrassment.
As I was enjoying my dinner, I heard the mother's loud and shrill voice boom across the restaurant, "SIT DOWN!"
Distracted by her sudden outburst of anger, I sat bolt upright, casting a look at her direction. It was only then did I suddenly notice something round and flat speeding towards me in the air. Swiftly, I dodged and the mysterious flying saucer crashed into my plate of noodles a few seconds later. Taking a closer look at it, I realized with great astonishment that it was a plate full of chips!
Suddenly, there was another earsplitting crash and a few people yelled. Spinning around, I found the object of disturbance. While the mother was busy chattering on her mobile phone, her little boy had seized the opportunity of standing triumphantly on his chair, clutching his plates of spaghetti and chips, and flung the plates across the room like freebees in different directions.
Hooting and chortling at his accomplishments, he had now snatched a saltshaker from his messy table overflowing with ketchup, threatening to hurl it at our table. He must have felt a strange excitement taking hold of him, for his eyes were gleaming with anticipation. The mother appeared glued to her seat. With her mouth gaped wide open, she merely stared at her monkey child in disbelief.
I was totally stunned by his audacity! Watching him raise his arm and aiming the saltshaker at me, I stifled my urge to scream. Another surge of fear caused me to give an involuntary shudder. Just then, I released my grip of the fork. It fell onto the wooden floors with a loud thud. The atmosphere in the restaurant had become particularly tensed. Every diner seemed to focus his attention on the cherub-faced child, wondering if he would calm down and hoping his mother would do something to stop her toddler's fits.
In order not to startle him, the captain moved quickly and quietly and somehow managed to grab the saltshaker away before any more harm was done. A quick-witted waitress hurriedly brought along a high chair to buckle the kicking body into the seat.
All hell broke loose when the howling and wiggling boy found himself strapped into the high chair. His protests and piercing wails rang out, bouncing off the ceilings and echoing throughout the restaurant. His tiny fists pounded the sides of the high chair furiously, as if wrestling with it.
Meanwhile, his mother pushed back her chair and stood up wearily. When she finally found the strength to talk, she whispered softly to the captain and waitress, "Thank you. You'll both go to heaven for this."
Her rescuers simply smiled and nodded their heads as thunderous applause rang out from all four corners of the restaurant, causing even the little monkey child to stare silently and curiously at the giants who had imprisoned him, holding him captive in the high chair.
Now, whenever I listen to complaints, wails and howls ringing out around me, I remember that monkey child with the cherubic face. I realize that tantrums are Mother Nature's way of making all parents with grown-up children within earshot thankful that their 'babies' have grown.
To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven. A time to be born, and a time to die; A time to plant, and a time to pluck up that which is planted; A time to kill, and a time to heal; A time to break down, and a time to build up; A time to weep, and a time to laugh; A time to mourn, and a time to dance; A time to cast away stones, and a time to gather stones together; A time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing; A time to get, and a time to lose; A time to keep, and a time to cast away; A time to rend, and a time to sew; A time to keep silence, and a time to speak; A time to love, and a time to hate; A time of war, and a time of peace.
-Ecclesiastes