Training Day

Today after picking N up from school, we ran a few errands before going to the park.
We went to the drive through at the bank, and then the post office. I try to avoid taking NBO to the post office. N--fine. B--fine. O--fine. But not NBO together. The Post office is not kid friendly. There are no carts in which to confine B and O, and there is no food with which to bribe them. There is always a line. The Post Office also started selling greeting cards. Racks of them. Bad idea.

There was only one person in front of us. How bad can this be? I thought. That'll teach me. The woman in front of us apparently didn't get a package she was expecting. The woman working told her to call tomorrow and speak with the manager, who could track it for her. A five minute exchange followed, in which the customer first felt a need to verify that, in fact, the manager would answer the phone tomorrow, on a Saturday, but then decided that maybe she would call Monday instead, and wanted to verify that the manager would in fact answer the phone Monday, or maybe Wednesday, as actually, that may work better for her. The longer their conversation continued, the more antsy I got, knowing our time was limited. B and O were relatively quiet, but getting restless. The woman is still asking about the manager's availability, and maybe for his home address. I just need stamps. Could we please hurry this along?

B and O are starting to get louder. They are wandering. O is behind the other counter (good--maybe he can sell me some stamps). B is taking out greeting cards. More people are coming in behind us. We are still waiting while the woman in front of me talks more about her package that she didn't receive. I'm starting to guess that the package contains her OCD meds. O finds a Mickey Mouse card and starts yelling "Hot Dog!", as this is the song Mickey sings on TV. "Hot Dog! Hot Dog!" B is arguing with him, rather loudly. "That's not a hot dog! That's Mickey Mouse!" N is rolling her eyes. B takes off and runs to the other end of the post office.  The woman behind us smiles and comments on how much energy they have. She clearly thinks it's wonderful. I wonder what drugs she's taking and if she might be willing to share.

I finally get my stamps and move to the mail box area to put them on. B and O are nowhere to be seen, but can definitely be heard. The post office is now full of people. B nearly bumps into several of them as he runs around, weaving back and forth between people. N tells me she can't find O, and then discovers him behind the other counter again. I am almost done. I know our time is almost up. No, it's not almost up. It's up now, as O lets out a high pitched scream, and B counters with one twice as loud. Just because they can. Repeatedly. I am making sure I have my keys, and my purse, and my stamps, and telling them to stop screaming, though they can't hear me, because, well, they are screaming. The nice woman who was behind me in line laughs. Three others just stare. One man gives me a look that clearly says he can't believe I take these children out in public. Yeah, bud. That makes two of us.

We get in the car, and B asks for his lollipop from the bank. I tell him boys who scream like that do not get lollipops. He screams more. He calms down and asks again. I tell him firmly "B, you are not getting a lollipop. You didn't listen to mommy. You cannot scream like that in the liquor store!"
N asks why I said liquor store, when we were just in the post office. Oh. I did? Whoops. I briefly consider explaining what a Freudian slip is, but decide my six-year-old doesn't need this information just yet.

We stop at home to pick up our dog Bella, and go to the park. I wonder if I am sending B a mixed message by taking him to the park, but decide I don't care since clearly, this child needs to run. We play for a while and then get Bella and the double stroller out of the car to walk the trail. We turn a corner and see a man walking his rather large dog, so I take Bella from N. Now I have Bella and the double stroller. Bella decides she is really interested in the other, very well behaved dog, and proceeds to wrap herself around the stroller in an attempt to meet him. The man just looks at me as he tells his dog to stay and she does. I am trying to unwrap Bella while not letting the stroller roll down the hill, since I can't seem to find the brake. I know there is some dog etiquette about asking if our dogs can meet, but I decide I don't care because I don't want our dogs to meet. I just want to keep walking, if I can ever get us all untangled from this leash.

Eventually, we get untangled and the well behaved dog and his owner go their own way. We get to the other end of the trail, and B and O are now out of the stroller trying to catch up with N. And we run into...the same well behaved dog and his owner. Bella once again goes nuts trying to meet him. His owner tells the dog to sit, and he does. I guess they are going to let us pass. Only we aren't passing, because B and O are running in circles in front of his dog, who is looking at them with interest. I hope the dog doesn't think they are small animals he is supposed to chase, but then I realize that the dog has the same look as the man in the post office, and he's probably thinking that he can't believe I take these children out in public. I try to get B and O to walk, but they are only interested in the dog, and I can't just pick them up and put them in the stroller since I am holding onto Bella. I apologize to the owner, and laugh and say something about how my children aren't just making my life difficult, but his, too. He agrees with me. He doesn't laugh.

Eventually, the man and his very well behaved dog just walk around us and continue on their way. Then he takes his dog off his leash, because he is obviously so well behaved. B and O have now turned around and are running down the hill we just came up. N has taken off in the other direction--I'm pretty sure because she's decided she doesn't want to be seen with us. I wonder if that really well behaved dog had special training. I grab the kids and head back up the hill, and hope we run into that man and his dog again. I need to get his trainer's number.