Someone should get that kid under control.

Oh wait. That would be me.

This morning, Little G had not one, but THREE screaming tantrums. One of them in Dufferin Mall. We had been having a good time. We walked around Toys R Us and bought a soccer ball for the park. We were just sitting down to coffee and a snack at Second Cup, and it started. Arms flailing. Legs kicking. Face squashed on the floor, mixing snot and tears with the dirt on the floor. Wailing at the top of his lungs.

He wanted to sit on the grown up chair. I think. I don't know because he can't talk. Anyways, he's too small and too unpredictable to sit on a grown up chair yet. I tried sitting with him on my lap. I tried strapping him into the stroller. I tried putting him down so he could walk around. I tried holding him and shushing him gently in the ear. He screamed no matter what I did. In the end, I tried sitting him in the coveted adult chair by himself, and he vaulted out face first. Still screaming.

People stared. I know what they were thinking. Can't you get your kid under control? Should you be out in public when your child obviously hasn't learnt civility?? Do you know that you are a Bad Mother??? On their faces: utter horror.

Here's the thing, though, I don't know when he's going to blow. He's quite a happy, giggly, charming little man. Except when he's not. I can't stay at home, indoors, all day long because he might have a meltdown at some point. And if I left a store every time he screamed, well, let's just say that very very few errands would be completed. If any.

And he's loud. LOUD. When he's unhappy, he makes sure you know it. There is no minor complaint. Every wail is at the top of his lungs. Loblaws was christened the other day. I'm pretty sure everyone in the produce section knew that he didn't want to sit in the cart. One lady came over and spoke to me in soothing tones after the display was over.

I'm not embarrassed, really. I was with Big C when he had tantrums in public, and he wasn't nearly as loud. Nor did he get his freak on as many times as Little G. I'm just tired. Tired of walking on eggshells, waiting for the explosion. And stressed, because it's hard to listen to the screaming and not be able to help. He doesn't want my help. And sad that many more people than I would like don't get to see sweet little man that I know he is. That I've seen him be, countless times.

He really is a very good little boy. He's just a little loud, that's all.