Storytime

I like to take the boys to storytime at the library. It's not the greatest, but I like to think that going every week will get Ian used to sitting in a big group of kids, listening to an adult.

Usually he likes it.

Today the story person was the most boring older man ever. I'm pretty sure he's never interacted with a toddler before in his life. So, needless to say, Ian was not all that interested in what he had to say.

I gave him two chances to sit and listen rather than squirm around and kick people. Then I dragged him out of the room with all the other mothers staring.

Ian pulled himself together and we spent about half an hour doing puzzles in the children's section and picking out books. Then Mr. Independent decided that he was going to tour the library by himself, weaving in and out of the rows of books with me trailing behind him with Chase in the sling, calling in the loudest voice I could muster in the quiet library, "Ian- get back here! Ian! Listen to Mommy! Ian! Do we have to go home right now??"

Finally, a librarian near the periodicals cornered him. I thanked her and told Ian that it was time to check out our books and go home because he wasn't listening. I had to hold his wrist to keep him from taking off again. Twerp.

Of course, there is a line at the checkout counter because all the moms with good kids are ready to go home now.

Our wait in line consisted of me with the deathgrip on his wrist, Ian trying to wriggle free, and my repeated threats of, "If you don't stay with Mommy, then we have to go home without our new books."

Finally we were up, and I let go of his hand to get my library card out. There goes Ian, running around the front of the desk. Now I have to follow through with my threat. I catch him, he gets spaghetti legs- you know, the ones that when you grab his hand, makes him hang there and makes you look like the mom from hell who is bent on dislocating your child's shoulder. I have no choice but to scoop him up in my arms (remember I'm still wearing Chase in the sling)- he's like a water weanie- sliding all over the place, so I end up holding him around the waist with one arm, his legs kicking behind me and his arms flailing wildly in front of me. He's alternating between screaming at the top of his lungs and demanding, "Put me down! Put me DOOOOWWWNNNN!" I hand my books to Angelle (who happened to be one of the moms with good kids in line), tell Ian that we have to leave our books here because he's not listening, and proceed out of the library. I love being a mom.

Oh, but it's not over yet.

I'm still holding him, he's still kicking and screaming across the parking lot, only now he's yelling, "I want to WAAAAALK!" Somehow we manage to get in the car. I get him buckled in- he's still sniffling, but at least he's tired of yelling now. I'm buckling Chase in (he's completely oblivious to the trauma- just as happy as can be).

Ian looks at me and says, "Are you happy, Mommy?"

"Mommy will be happy once Ian starts being a good listener again," I reply with clenched teeth.

He thinks about it. "I am good. Now are you happy, Mommy?"

*sigh* Surprisingly, yes. I am happy today...