I Don’t Like That Noise…

Today we stopped at Target after my eye doctor appointment and by this time, Brighton was tired, hungry and hurting. So we stopped in at Starbucks where I could give him some ibuprofen and get him something to fill his tummy that wouldn’t hurt his gums. AKA ice cream. On our way in there, I hit a bump and of course, it was also just as Brighton was putting his finger in his mouth. He bumped his already tender gums on his fingernail I suppose and started bawling. I tell him “It’s OK, Mom’s got medicine to make him feel better,” and shuffle the cart to a table. As I am trying to coax him into waiting while I’m getting his medicine ready, this little girl comes up to me, who is about three, and says “Can you make your baby stop crying? I don’t like that sound…” I’m a reasonable mother. I can appreciate someone speaking their own mind and I also understand that when it’s a three year old, you’re basically at the mercy of whatever thought, feeling or image pops into their brain…But I was a bit taken aback. Her mother just laughed. I thought it was a little rude, but laughed it off, and expected her mother to say something like “His mommy is giving him medicine so he mustn’t feel good. You cry when you don’t feel good.” At least that’s what I (a PERFECT mother – HA!) would have said. I did tell the little girl that he didn’t feel good and that he was crying because he bumped his teeth (didn’t want to get into the whole thing) and his mouth hurt. She seemed empathetic and sweet. Then when Brighton tossed his puffs overboard, she promptly shuffled to pick them up for us. Which was also sweet. So all in all I guess maybe she wasn’t a little blond snot bag in a pretty frilly black and pink polkadot dress, instead I think I’ve just had a tough couple of days and was a bit overstimulated and not in any mood to match wits (and probably lose) with an outspoken 3 year old. Who’s the adult here?

Bright went with me to the eye doctor and I have to say, he was a perfect angel (of course). He sat in the chair across from me and just watched. Didn’t try to get up, didn’t cry, didn’t shuffle or fuss. He was so good and I was so proud of him. I thought for sure I’d have to end up putting him in my lap which I know isn’t the eye doctor’s bag of tea (he told me so last year). So I’m glad that my good boy showed him that he was a good boy. Anyway, here are a couple pictures of Brighton doing his “chores.” I’m off to bed…

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