Chicken Korma with a Kick

This weekend my family got together with friends and the adults collectively decided that it felt like an order-Indian-food-instead-of-cooking kind of evening.  My friend ordered the food so I volunteered to pick it up with my 3-year-old. Except that a busy day outdoors with daddy and big brother, punctuated by heavy doses of nitrates and sugar, meant that she was no longer my sweet little daughter: she was a feral beast.

Still, the food pick up seemed to be going well enough. The restaurant was empty so there were no patrons to unleash her bad mood upon. She even smiled slightly when the man at the cash patted her on the head. Then things went terribly wrong.  Since we were feeding ten people our order was large enough to be packed in a box. Can you guess who wanted to carry the box? Yep, the feral one.

I told her that the box was too heavy. Then the nice man from the cash told her that the box was too heavy, but she stomped her determined foot, placed her fists on her little hips and proclaimed loudly that SHE WANTED TO CARRY THE BOX! So, being the seasoned mother that I am, I decided to let her hold the box for a moment to demonstrate how unwieldy it would be for her to manage. Suddenly, the nice man from the cash transformed into the very concerned man who envisioned containers of Chicken Korma and Shrimp Sag being dropped, spilling out of their containers and turning the naan bread into a soggy mess. He lurched forward, supporting the bottom of the box whilst proclaiming, “Too heavy! Too heavy!”

My little E’s face crumpled and she burst into tears. Loud tears. I’m talking pure preschooler anguish. However, living with three kids means The Drama is a daily reality and I am pretty much immune. The nice man, however, was apparently quite distraught, for after I had safely stowed the food, tucked the sobbing child into her car seat and was actually reversing my vehicle, he came bursting out of the restaurant with a can of Sprite in his hand. I unrolled my window and he told me he felt bad that she left crying. He opened the back door to give my child a nice cold can of pop as a peace offering and...she kicked him.

Yep, her furious little legs performed a flutter kick that any synchronized swimmer would envy. I apologized profusely. I thanked him profusely. (Is it possible to want to disappear profusely?) Then he handed me the pop through my open window, “For later,” he said, still apologizing as he backed towards the restaurant.

Apparently being immune to drama does not also protect you from feeling mortified.

As we sat there E. sullenly told me that she didn’t like that man and I was reminded that I am constantly telling my kids that it’s okay to stand up for themselves, even to say ‘no’ to adults when something doesn’t feel right.  Frankly, I don’t want to encourage them to smile and go along with situations that don’t sit well.  I also don’t want them to think it’s okay to take their bad mood out on those around them. So I told my daughter that we won’t always like everyone that we meet. Then I reminded her that we should try to use our words first when we don’t like something rather than, you know, drop-kicking.  

I think as adults we have to realize that kids need space, too. They experience bad moods just like their parents and sometimes they want to be left alone. Granted, this incident was just a restaurateur offering my kid a pop, likely as an insurance policy that I will continue to patronize his business. So on the drive back to our friend’s house part of me felt sorry for the man who endured my little E’s wrath; part of me hoped he didn’t think she was a rotten kid; and part of me thought, “Dude, if you’re going to try and shake hands with a bear, you just might get scratched.”

Have your kids ever unleashed their bad mood on a stranger who was trying to engage with them? What message did you send them afterwards?

This is a Canada Moms Blog original post.