There are times where I let my expectations get the best of me. I write the script for how my day will go or how a conversation will sound. In my head, everything plays out perfectly, and oftentimes accompanied with a world-class soundtrack playing in the background.
My first day as a stay-at-home mom was no exception.
You see, Maverick loves books. I mean, LOVES them. Nothing would make him happier than if we read books, all day, every day and never did anything else. As a mom, seeing him be such an avid book lover at the rip ol’ age of 1 makes me feel as though I’m actually doing something right. So to help encourage his thirst for knowledge, I signed us up for our first Story Time at the library.
In preparation for our adventure, we arrived at the library early–newly printed library card in hand. We were pumped!
As class started the librarian instructed everyone to find a carpet square to sit on.
Maverick didn’t want to sit on a carpet square. Instead he wanted to sit in the corner, furthest away from everyone in the room. I let it slide and took a seat on my carpet square.
During the story, Maverick refused to participate. In fact, he didn’t even listen. He sat in his corner, with his fingers in his ears. I acted like I didn’t know him as the other moms started giving me “the look.”
As the book ended, Maverick began slowly making his way to the circle. In fact, he let everyone know he was coming by loudly screaming, “MA MA MA MA MA MA MA MA MA,” the entire time he army crawled across the floor.
It was becoming clear that Maverick was not going to follow the script I had written and re-written in anticipation for this big outing. I lowered my expectations and just prayed that we’d survive the next 20 minutes without incident, but really who was I kidding?
While the librarian lead the group in song, I watched Maverick from the corner of my eye empty the entire contents of my purse onto the floor. I tried, Lord knows I tried, to discreetly and quietly stop him, but he wasn’t having it. So I decided to pick my battle and let him be. He wasn’t hurting anybody and he was being quiet, so I sat there as Chapstick, my wallet, a hairbrush, ponytail holders, old receipts and gum wrappers gathered at my feet.
“Okay, kids let’s grab a scarf,” instructed the librarian. As Maverick bolted to the front of the class to grab a neon scarf to dance with to the tune of “If You’re Happy and You Know It,” I began cleaning up the clutter. I looked up, just in time to see my son twirling around the room–scarf and tampon in hand.
Yes, tampon. From my purse that he had just emptied.
I don’t know what’s more mortifying–the death glares I received from the other moms whose children won’t acting like lunatics or seeing my toddler dance with a tampon in a room full of strangers. Either way, I was dying inside.
The song ended. The scarves were put up and Maverick found his seat, still clinging onto the tampon as though it was his favorite stuffed giraffe.
“Oh, look Mav! They are getting the parachute out,” I said excitedly as the librarian began unfolding the classic parachute that brings back so many good memories of elementary gym class.
“AHHHHHHH,” screamed Maverick as he threw the tampon into the middle of the group and bolted out of the Story Time room and into the main library.
My reaction time was delayed just long enough that Maverick had enough time to begin clearing an entire bookshelf onto the floor. I grabbed him, a handful of books and stormed to the checkout kiosk. I was livid, embarrassed and heartbroken.
My child doesn’t behave like this and rarely (if ever) in public. I was at a loss, but determined to stick to the part of my script where we checkout books and read them together.
“Please see the Customer Service desk,” read the kiosk when I scanned my brand-new, never-before-used library card.
“Whatever. Maverick come with mommy for a minute, please,” I said as I struggled to grab my purse and a stack of books that I hadn’t even read the titles for.
“NOOOOOOOOOO,” yelled Maverick as he took off for the front door with a book in hand.
Before I could stop him, the book he was holding triggered the alarm. Red lights started flashing and sirens blared. Terrified, my son dropped to the floor and began wailing at the top of his lungs. The entire library stopped to watch as my son rolled around the floor, screaming.
“It’s the book. It’s not checked out,” said the extremely helpful librarian.
“Yes, I know,” I said I was ran to his aid.
I scooped Maverick up in one arm, grabbed the book, threw it over my shoulder and out the door we went.
Needless to say, we didn’t bring home any books and we have yet to return to the library. Maybe one day…after I found a new location.