I came away from our local leisure centre last night feeling traumatised and abused. Not in the Jimmy Savile way thank goodness, but aurally. Another mum was sitting, in the row behind me, watching all the kids take part in their usual Thursday night class. This mum also had a toddler who was, shall we say, going through the 'terrible twos' with a vengeance.
This child was not behaving well, but so far so typical with a toddler. God knows I have had my own fair share of brattish children screaming and generally behaving like they've got three sixes transcribed on their skull, but when they did kick off in public I would always try to remove them so as not to let it impact on those around us.
Apparently this toddler kept hitting his mother so her response was to pick him up and put him on the floor about six feet away and say to him repeatedly in a loud voice "no hitting mummy!". The child's response was to open his adorable little rosebud mouth and screech and yell with the intensity of a police or air raid siren for about five minutes until his mother picked him up again.
This pattern continued, without a break, for the duration of the class which was an agonising 45 minutes. I turned to look at the screaming child on the floor and then to the mother who strangely, was not making eye contact with anyone. I then turned to look at the other mums with a "WTF?" expression on my face which they all returned some with stifled giggles others with barely concealed irritation.
What I should have done of course, but was too cowardly to do so, was to go up to this woman and say "madam whilst I applaud your efforts to discipline your son, could you not take him elsewhere when he starts to scream and yell so that we, who are effectively trapped here in this area, do not have to listen to the racket?"
Next time, next time, next time dear reader. Watch this space!
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