Cameron’s morning was the polar opposite of yesterday’s morning for the most part. Awake super early. Tossed his tykelight buddy on the floor, so for twenty minutes I listened to “Light! Liiiiggght! Neeeed mine liiiiight! Liiiiiight!” Sigh.
The get-ready part of the morning was pure torture. He screamed about everything. He wanted oatmeal. SCREAAAAM. No, not that oatmeal, other oatmeal. “We’re all out of the instant stuff, Cameron.” Screeeaaaam. Nonono, PJs stay ON! No khakis, want jeeeaaaans! Oaaatttmeeeeaaaal! And on and on. He ate a whole spoonful of the oatmeal in a half an hour. He got warnings that he’d better eat, we had to go soon. Five minutes. Two minutes. I’m putting on the piggybacker, one more minute! It was time to go … but oh, no, he THEN wanted to eat his oatmeal. Tough luck, kiddo. Out we went. I’ll sheepishly admit at one point growling at Cameron something along the lines of “You’ve had the oatmeal for a half an hour and not touched it, you’re clearly not really hungry!” Like logic was gonna help.
He screamed the whole walk to the bus about oatmeal, while I picked my way past the legs and stuff of homeless people sleeping in doorways on Main Street.. Maybe I should be a little bit more grateful.
Oh, that screaming was briefly interrupted … with screams about going to the firehall, not seeing a firefighter, and then leaving the firehall. Frankly, I think the firefighters heard us coming two blocks away and hid. I wouldn’t blame them. They may be brave enough to go into burning buildings, but c’mon. Those were some serious screams. There are limits!
In the coffee shop Cameron asked nicely for an ‘almond crescent’ (croissant). I’d warned him that I wouldn’t get one if he screamed for it. Then he screamed for juice as he saw that the lady behind us in line was buying one of the four-buck-a-swallow juices. I offered him water, knowing full well that I’d be pretty unhappy too if I wanted juice but only got water. No-go. He halfway seemed to want it, couldn’t pick it up while holding onto his hat, but wouldn’t put his hat down or give it to me. So he screamed some more.
Out of the corner of my eye I saw a hand reach for the glass I’d just poured. AH MAN I thought, c’mon, this is my kid’s water. I was ready to snarl at this point. Thankfully I didn’t open my mouth to say anything. A scruffy looking man, long white beard and hair, who I’ve seen a few times in there was smiling at Cameron. He always gets a mug of milk, and pays for it with small change. I’m not sure if he’s one of the doorway sleepers or not, but he looks like he could be. He ever so gently said to Cameron, “Here now, let me hold your hat for you, see, you can’t drink holding that.” Cameron chuckled, and handed over his hat. The man helped him drink his water. And instantly brightened Cameron’s day, and mine too. Night to day – Cameron was instantly all smiles, happily waved bye-bye to everyone in the shop. There were no more screams.
At least, not until I said goodbye at daycare.