I was at the allergist this morning. This is part of my weekly routine. I’m in my first year so there are still some surprises, like coming in to get my injections and finding out the office is closed every third Wednesday for a staff meeting. Most of the visits are fairly routine.
Not this morning.
This morning, there were children. Now, to be fair, I don’t hate children. Hate is such a strong word. Really, I just don’t want any of my own, or have to interact with them in situations that are not on my terms.
In any case, they were loud, and most of the noise seemed to be stemming from one of them. So the mother asked him to move to a different location and settle down. She had to do this about a dozen times, each time with an additional escalation. Although I didn’t see any of it, I heard every step in the timbre of her voice, the slight variations of wording she used for her request.
Finally, I heard nothing.
Then, intermittent crying while the child screamed variations on this dialogue:
Ow! You hurt me! You really hurt me! You really really hurt me, mommy! You really hurt me and you didn’t even apologize! That really hurt! You’re a bad person! Ow! That really hurts!
Then he comes out of the children’s area, and I’m pretty shocked. This kid looks like he’s eight years old. I was expecting a three year old based on all of the dialogue I had heard up to this point.
He then stomps out of the lobby and out the door of the office. The walls are all glass, so the half dozen or so people can see him as he lies down on the floor and starts throwing the best cliché tantrum I have ever seen. He is on the floor, on his stomach, fists balled into his eyes, kicking the floor—the whole deal.
He is absolutely killing it.
This goes on for about five minutes. I know because I was checking my watch.
Every now and again, I’d catch one of the other people waiting in the lobby staring at the kid for a few minutes. The walls of the office are all glass so it was pretty hard not to watch.
Finally the mother came out to check on him after he had been silent for about five minutes. At the sight of his mother, he started up again, but it was time for them to leave.
The rest of my visit was silent, and I caught up on my reading.