Mom Talk: The Private Torture of the Public Tantrum

The showdown had been threatening for hours. When it came down to it, it was my 2-year old son, me, a supermarket filled with harried shoppers and a manipulatively packaged, eight dollar, hunk of neon green goo.

The set up had the feel of a shoot-out in a classic western movie. Except, instead of the OK Coral at high noon, we— my 2-year old and I— were at the A&P in Ortley Beach (close to where we once lived) in the late afternoon, perilously close to dinnertime.

Specifically, we were on a long, slow checkout line. My son was exhausted and hungry. I was feeling my working-mother sleep deprivation. It was an ugly time for both of us. That’s when he spotted it, the aforementioned Nickelodeon Goo in a package. He wanted it and he wanted it badly.

In a flash, I envisioned about 48 hours into the future when the prized Goo, completely forgotten by my son, would be smashed, smeared, and embedded into my blue-gray carpet. Eight bucks down the drain and a mess. I also envisioned my son’s likely reaction to a decisive refusal of his wish to have it.

Even as I weighed my options, he began to whine and reach for the expensive glob of nothing. I looked at it again, and I looked at him. I looked around us, and saw that the place was packed. Despite the volatility of the situation, and my particular dread of public temper tantrums, I said no. “No, honey.  I am not going to buy that goo-toy.”

It’s important to understand that as a mother, prior to the Goo confrontation, I had fooled myself into thinking I had out-smarted this whole “terrible two” thing. Popular psychology calls this period, when kids begins to exhibit challenging, difficult behavior, the “terrible twos.” It's a time when children make irrational, unreasonable demands. They kick and scream when they don’t get their way. And, yes, they tend to throw temper tantrums.

My strategy was to choose my battles. If my son wanted something harmless and within the realm of reasonable, like to sit in a certain chair at dinnertime or to eat his cereal while sitting on the floor with his socks off, I would say “sure.” My thoughts were as long as it didn’t endanger him or anyone else, I’d try to make his choice work. By giving him the chance to set his terms, I figured, he could feel the power and mastery over his world that he craved, thereby avoiding frustration and the dreaded tantrum.

Now, back to the A&P and our moment of truth, when I said “no Goo for you.” He was dumbstruck. He stared at it. I stared at him. The young woman at the checkout register stared at me. “But, I want it,” he persisted. I told him I understood but he didn’t need it and it was a messy toy.

The flood gates opened, tears streamed, screams and kicks my two-year old was having his first temper tantrum and he had an audience. The quiet, focused bustle of A&P during the pre-dinner rush was shattered. Heads turned. Eyes bored into me, the suddenly mean or inept mom who had somehow precipitated this onslaught of righteous rage.

I offered him one of the animal crackers I always had on hand during shopping. He wasn’t interested. Despite my anxiety, embarrassment, and impulse to do something, anything to quiet him, I resisted the temptation to cave and grab the Goo.

The experts say it’s important for children to learn lessons about frustration, about not getting what they want when they want it. They say that such displays of raw emotion are “developmentally appropriate” even if they are incredibly embarrassing. They advise parents to help give children words for the intense feelings they are experiencing, to do their best to pay attention and help the child acknowledge those emotions. 

I let him express it all. I told him that I was sorry he was disappointed, that I loved him and that we’d play with his other toys when we got home. Did I apologize to the shoppers around me? I may have tried but I knew it wouldn’t help sooth the nerves my son was frazzling. The emotional development of other people’s children does not tend to be high on shoppers’ lists of priorities.

I can still picture my boy, flailing there in the front of my shopping cart. My heart broke for his disappointment and his distress at hearing the queen of “yes” hand him such a firm “no.” Turns out, his first tantrum was his last tantrum and we both learned a lot about our relationship and the nature of life and its challenges.

When, what I considered to be the worst happened and my kid went public with his rage, we survived. The A&P’s shoppers glared at me but moved on, and I’m somewhat certain many of them thought “thank God it’s not my kid making a racket.”

Once home, the goo was barely a thought for either of us. It was on to dinner, and then animal crackers and peace reigned supreme at our OK coral.