So yesterday in Walmart there’s this kid SCREAMING bloody murder. SCREAMING and CRYING for 15 minutes with the lung force of a Maria Callas. No offense Maria.
You could hear it clear across the other side of the store — a football field-sized supercenter no less! I literally plug up both ears, flee the opposite direction from the scene of the crime and hasten out asap!
After checking out, I think: “This is an bloody-murder-type anomaly. I’ve got to investigate.”
Follow my ears to the source of the screaming — not difficult to do — thinking: “Please let it be an overtired 6-month-old infant in a carrier.”
No such “luck.” A 6-ish girl in partial princess getup. No surprise there.
And either her mother or young grandmother in black tights & heels. Tears are rolling down the girl’s face as she’s ear-bleeding SCREAMING she wants THIS. She wants THAT.
I stand at the scene watching. Say nothing. Expressionless face. Sometimes that speaks more loudly than words. Bearing witness to the monstrosity unfolding.
The mother looks up, sees me watching. Says nothing.
She’s tugging at the girl’s hand in a futile effort toward the exit. The girl, heels dug in, is resisting. Keeps SCREAMING, pointing to some item at the checkout stand (likely candy): “I WANT THAT!! I WANT THAT.”
Mom: “I’ll get you that if you stop screaming.”
Right. I come thiiiiiissssss close to stating: “That’s right. Reward the child for her screaming.”
Mom finally gets the girl, who’s now been shouting relentlessly for a good full 15 minutes, moving toward the door.
Just in the knick of time. I’m standing there, incredulity dripping from my brain, thinking: “I’ve NEVER seen anything like this in a store.” I’m ready to pull out my phone and begin filming.
End of story: Despite bloody-murder screaming, there’s zero abuse of the child. A call to child protective services is unnecessary.
A call to adult services to protect us from our self-created monsters, yes …
‘Tis the Christmas season. Peace on Earth? Perhaps one day.
Peace in a store? Not a chance!