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Interfering busybodies R Us
Nov. 6th, 2007 10:26 pmToday I went to town to buy Linnea some pyjamas and both girls swimsuits and Emer new shoes and all the other children-grow-don't-you-know things one does. I'm still not brilliantly well, so I took frequent rests, and one of these was in the cafe at John Lewis, where we actually made several of our purchases. We sat at our table with our drinks and bits of fruit, and I gradually became aware of a screaming toddler. Well, beyond toddler, but still buggy-bound.
I watched and listened while the dad scolded the screamer and the screamer wriggled down and ran away and the dad caught him and tried to interest him in his lunch and the screamer screamed and got down and ran away and the dad gave up and the grandparents came back and blah blah blah.
Eventually I saw the dad and grandad trying to lower the child into the buggy, one arm each, child dangling and wriggling his whole body out the *bottom* of the buggy, both adults getting angrier and angrier and probably more and more embarrassed. So I interfered. I said "Scuse me, would it help if someone else's parent did it? They're usually more cooperative for other people."
They hesitated, then let go of the child and the dad said "Yes please" with the kind of relief normally associated with being airlifted off the roof of your burning house at 3 am in a blizzard,which was nice, because I had half an idea he'd tell me to fuck off, since he'd been sounding so angry earlier.
I picked the child up in my arms, held him behind the knees and across his back, so that he had to bend in the middle (step one). Then I sorted the buggy strap that goes between the legs so that when I got him in I could hoick it up and prevent him wriggling out the bottom (step two). Then I started lowering him in, but the whole time I said "Oh poor boy, poor little boy, you don't want to be in the buggy, poor boy," etc. As I talked his dad calmed down until eventually he said "I don't know what's wrong with him, he's not usually like this, are you Charlie?" Charlie calmed down a bit too - still crying, but not struggling or hysterical any more. And I got him in with dad helping sort out the kicking feet, and after I worked out what the dad had done to the buggy straps to stop them closing, I got him safe,too.
Then granddad took him for a walk and they came back five minutes later and Charlie ate his lunch happily. And Linnea went and got him a set of crayons from the kiddie bar and handed them to him. Dunno what he had to draw on, mind you.
Sometimes all it takes is not being close enough to feel *responsible* for the crying. Or something. Anyway, it could have gone badly, it went well, I'm glad I intervened.
I watched and listened while the dad scolded the screamer and the screamer wriggled down and ran away and the dad caught him and tried to interest him in his lunch and the screamer screamed and got down and ran away and the dad gave up and the grandparents came back and blah blah blah.
Eventually I saw the dad and grandad trying to lower the child into the buggy, one arm each, child dangling and wriggling his whole body out the *bottom* of the buggy, both adults getting angrier and angrier and probably more and more embarrassed. So I interfered. I said "Scuse me, would it help if someone else's parent did it? They're usually more cooperative for other people."
They hesitated, then let go of the child and the dad said "Yes please" with the kind of relief normally associated with being airlifted off the roof of your burning house at 3 am in a blizzard,which was nice, because I had half an idea he'd tell me to fuck off, since he'd been sounding so angry earlier.
I picked the child up in my arms, held him behind the knees and across his back, so that he had to bend in the middle (step one). Then I sorted the buggy strap that goes between the legs so that when I got him in I could hoick it up and prevent him wriggling out the bottom (step two). Then I started lowering him in, but the whole time I said "Oh poor boy, poor little boy, you don't want to be in the buggy, poor boy," etc. As I talked his dad calmed down until eventually he said "I don't know what's wrong with him, he's not usually like this, are you Charlie?" Charlie calmed down a bit too - still crying, but not struggling or hysterical any more. And I got him in with dad helping sort out the kicking feet, and after I worked out what the dad had done to the buggy straps to stop them closing, I got him safe,too.
Then granddad took him for a walk and they came back five minutes later and Charlie ate his lunch happily. And Linnea went and got him a set of crayons from the kiddie bar and handed them to him. Dunno what he had to draw on, mind you.
Sometimes all it takes is not being close enough to feel *responsible* for the crying. Or something. Anyway, it could have gone badly, it went well, I'm glad I intervened.