I see you stop to tut, to disapprove
Of my toddler screaming on the move.
You frown as she throws her arms in the air
As like a bull, she crashes close to China ware.
You watch me scramble, with a pained expression
As I pick up tiny arms and legs with little discretion.
Her bellows and shouts broadcast through the aisles,
As beached, she lies on the cold floor tiles.
As the carnage unfolds, I see you stand
But you don’t come over to offer me a hand.
Instead, I hear whispers of ‘what a brat’
As you pick up kibble for your pampered pet cat.
While she performs her am dram in a public display
You fail to comprehend that she could be any other way.
For it is just an act, a scene of frustration,
A battle of wills and a cry for attention.
This ten second outburst is just ten seconds of her life,
Just ten seconds into tiredness, where tantrums are rife.
It’s just ten seconds after exhaustion takes its toll,
When for ten seconds, her happiness takes a lull.
Have you ever been held up, forced to stay awake?
Dragged around against your will to buy a tray bake?
Have you been imprisoned, belted in an uncomfortable seat?
Been placed under harsh bright lighting and told not to move your feet?
While you look on with your judgemental glare,
Let me tell you what you’re missing when you stop to stare.
You can’t see her smiles, as she wraps her hands around mine,
Her eyes full of joy as we wrap presents in twine.
You can’t hear her giggles as we hide in her cardboard den,
Or her quiet determination as she counts up to ten.
You don’t feel her warm cuddles or her tiny embrace,
You don’t taste her tears falling from her face.
For while these tantrums come thick and fast,
I still pray these terrible twos will last.
Because I can’t face the idea that one day she will be grown
And one day, she will be gone and I’ll be all alone.
So I will cherish these years, tantrums and all,
And if you have the gumption, cheek or gall
To write my daughter off as a spoilt brat,
Put some perspective in your trolley as you shop for your fat cat.