Dear Lady At The Mall:

I saw you today in the food court around 11:30am. You were with your young son — I’d guess around 2 years old — and man, was he wailing. Not the crying of a kid who is trying to get you to buy him another train, or who is just bored, but the outraged shrieks of a kid who is really and truly MAD, who cannot be pacified, oh no, not even with french fries. You were carrying him under your arm like a sack of potatoes and were waiting for the elevator to come and, no doubt, take you to your parking level.

I’m sure you felt like everyone was staring at you, thinking that you were a terrible mother and your kid some kind of lunatic. But really, all you were getting were sympathetic looks from other parents, like me. We’ve all been there — pushed our kid just that much too far past their limit of tiredness and hunger, and been greeted with a total nuclear meltdown. Sometimes it’s not even something you could have remotely predicted. It just happens.

I felt your pain, and if there was anything I could have done to give you a hand, I would have. My kids have screamed in public, had the breakdown, the whole bit. Hoisting your kid under your arm and getting him out of there, after the talk-down limit was passed, was definitely what I would have done. It’s hard being a mom, and we’re with you in spirit.

Love, TurtleHead