Wednesday, October 13, 2010


Had severe lapse in judgment today and decided to take boys with me to the library. During the witching hour. After they had just completed simultaneous meltdowns over who got to get in the car first. I'm pretty sure we're no longer welcome in the local library, based on the scathing glares I got from three different librarians, not to mention the eye rolls and blatant stares from various patrons.

All of the horrific behavior of late has stemmed directly from the need to be first. "First" and "front" are very big things in our house right now. Piglet is currently grounded from being all things first and front. He is also grounded from his blue chair and the right to have his door unlocked at night, but those are other events entirely.

Piglet teaches Pigpen everything he knows, both good and bad. This can be good when it comes to Pigpen knowing his letters and sounds, good when Piglet miraculously talks Pigpen into tasting olives, noodles, and green beans, but bad when it comes to first. As soon as I put on a pair of shoes or jingle my keys, there is a sudden explosion of pounding feet, hair pulling, and cries of, "FIRST! FIRST!" as a blur of boy races to the door. And then the car. And then the car seats. First to each place holds some place of honor in their books. They will literally tear one another's shirts off in order to reach the car first.

And don't get me started on the bathtub. We have to trade nights on who gets to sit in the front, or there will be a knock down, drag out tussle in the tub for the front seat. Why? I have no idea. As far as I can tell, there is no advantage.

But, I digress. There we were: post double meltdown, headed to the library. I gave my usual speech: You walk, you whisper, you carry your own books, you only use a computer if they're free and after we've selected books. Agreed.

Once freed from car seat buckles, Piglet tears into the library, Pigpen on his heels. There is squealing. Now, I am tickled pink that my children are excited about the library. As a child who counted down the days until the Bookmobile came to my neighborhood, I can get on board with some good old fashioned reading excitement.

This was not the case.

We walk into the library. Once in the very center, Piglet declares loudly, "I want a computer!" Pigpen yells, "First!" and they're off, me chasing behind them, shhing for all I'm worth. I grab them by the hands and steer them over to the reserved books section where I simply must pick up my pre-selected, reserved literature. They balk. Piglet begins twirling on a pole. Pigpen begins strategically pulling out the name labels from the reserved books and tossing them to the floor. I hiss like a cat and snatch their arms nearly from the sockets as I drag them to the children's section.

Piglet skidded into an available children's computer. I relaxed. At least here, we were around our people. Well, sort of. I noted that OTHER people's children (girls) were sitting primly at the computers following the directions on the games, typing, drawing with the mouse and all of this? Silently. Pigpen had just discovered a rocking chair and was trying to rock to infinity and beyond while Piglet, on his computer, was aiming the mouse at the screen and shooting with it, as though it were a gun.

I decided to cut my losses. I grabbed a pile of random books for Pigpen, another for Piglet and took off. Pigpen then dissolved into a screaming heap of tantrum on the floor because Piglet was carrying some of HIS books. The horror. I somehow forgot my bag with which to carry said books and had to juggle a pile of 15 books, plus a writhing, wailing Pigpen before an audience of people who appreciate books and silence a lot more than a kicky, shrieky two year old with bird hair.

The check out went just as smoothly as the rest of the event. It's like I've wronged my own people. MY PEOPLE. I am horrified. I swear here and now on this blog that I will not set foot back in that library with either of them for six months. That's April 13 at the earliest. Hold me to it.

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