I apologize if you have happened upon this post while looking up a Biblical reference, but I can assure you my experience in Target this morning with my two year old is about as close to hell as I can think of.
I should probably mention that earlier this week Mini-T fell at school which resulted in an emergency trip to a pediatric dentist. She split her gum, needed some antibiotics and was told to eat very soft foods for the next few weeks. Two weeks of pasta. Heaven for this little one.
So, when we walked into Target and she immediately hit her mouth on the bar of the shopping cart while refusing to get in or hold my hand, I should have taken that as a direct sign from God, turned around and walked out. Go straight home. Do not pass Go. Do not collect $200 or the tomatillo salsa we came in for. But no, we forged ahead.
On the one hand, there were not many people in the store. One would think that this is a good thing. However, do you know how far a screaming two year old's voice travels in a very large mostly empty Target? Completely to the other side, where the noise promptly bounces off the wall like a boomerang and comes right back.
She was defiant and screaming through most of the trip. And I refused to give in. I do quite often, but I realize that is part of the problem. She gets what she wants WAY more often than she should. By the time we were walking toward the checkout, she had two "disciplines" in women's lingerie and accessories. (I wasn't shopping in those areas mind you, but didn't want her to get "disciplines" in front of everyone now staring.)
And staring they were. Normally I get looks of pity. "I understand. " or "Stick to your guns!" is what those nice eyes usually say, but today it was all contempt for this poor mother (me) who has blood on her shirt from the entry incident, has tried her best to keep her two year old contained (which, by the way, is like putting your arms around a tornado and asking it to be still), and get out with the few things she needs. Suddenly, I was angry at them too. Each one just looked as us, hoping, wishing, praying we weren't going to get in line behind them. Now I wanted to stand behind all of them. For a really long time. And tell Mini-me to scream her head off. That'll teach 'em.
I was saved by Ms. Snyder. One of the third grade teachers at school who graciously talked to me and the girls, even Mini-me who scowled at her the whole time. God bless her. And thank God for sending Jesus because I'm sure hell is way worse.....but not by much.
**And before you feel bad that she hurt her mouth and got into so much trouble, let me assure you, one has NOTHING to do with the other.