The meltdown of all meltdowns

 

A pleasant visit to a toy shop ended in a scene that wouldn’t have been out of place in an episode of The Worst of Supernanny or Kids from Hell.

 

The Bruiser, who is five, had the meltdown of all meltdowns. I’m not exaggerating here, there were people coming from the other end of the store to see what all the commotion was about.

 

We were there to try out bikes for size before they went on the Santa list. That job done, I allowed each of the three kids to pick out something small, which they did - the Bruiser taking over an hour to make his choice of a little Superman figure.

 

The meltdown was over a surprise egg that he picked up at the till on our way out. I thoroughly enjoy buying toys and reliving my own childhood through my (much more privileged) children, but I detest the over-priced rubbish like blind bags and surprise eggs that hang around the checkouts in toy shops like Venus Flytraps trying to catch harassed parents on the way out.

 

So I paid for his sisters’ toys and told him he had one last chance to get his. He refused to put the egg back. The battle went on for about ten minutes, which is an incredibly long time when you are trying to manhandle a hysterically howling child out of a busy store.

 

It was so bad I had to leave the shop, put his two sisters in the car, which was just outside, and go back in for him. Every time I tried to grab him, he did the old slippery eel trick so I couldn’t get a proper hold.

 

Parents and staff looked on, some in pity, some in disapproval and others in amusement.

 

I finally managed to get a hold of him and half drag, half lift him out of the shop — no easy task as he is a solid lump of a child. Just outside the store, he managed to grab onto a steel bollard which he clung to with all his might as I tried to pull him away by the legs.

 

When I finally got him into the car, I was in too much of a rage to even speak. He, on the other hand, was suddenly calm again, acting as if he hadn’t just made a total and utter show of us all.

 

“Mom,” he asked nonchalantly, “can you put that Superman on my Santa list?”.

 

To which he was promptly informed about Santa’s Naughty and Nice policy.

 

Michelle McDonagh is a freelance journalist working from Blarney, Co Cork. She’s a mum of three children aged 2, 4 and 5, and a firm believer in 'good enough' parenting, bribery and the healing powers of chocolate.