On Being Nice

I have so, SO many shoots to edit, so whilst I am busy editing (and preparing for Halloween festivities), I shall leave you with a story or two...

There I was at Walmart.  I was minding my own business.  Q and I had stopped to grab a couple of items, so we didn't have a cart.  And I still can't lift him because of my surgery, so I couldn't have buckled him in one anyway.  But he was holding my hand and helping me quickly navigate through the store.  We stopped to look at one of the last little items needed for our costumes, and suddenly Q decided he needed to dart off around the corner, as he loves to do...especially after he's lulled me into a false sense of security.  I immediately ran after him and caught him in  the next aisle.  As I held his hand and talked to him for the umpteenth time about running away unexpectedly, an older lady muttered under her breath, "You should be watching your child."  Grrrr!  My temper flared immediately and I couldn't decide if I should confront her or not...but in the end, I was in a hurry and didn't want to waste my time.  I wanted to tell her that I was in fact watching my child, which is why I caught him and was only a mere two and a half steps behind him.  He is an active three-year old boy who sometimes gets the urge to run off and add excitement to his wee life.  But.  That does not mean in any way, shape, or form... that I am not watching him.  He is always on my radar...for I am his mother.

Gosh.

And then compare that with the other day at Target, when the little boy wouldn't keep his shoes on and I had one of those carts with the seats at the front so he could climb in (but he could also wiggle his way out of the straps), and he was dragging his socked feet as I pushed the cart.  I had tried to coax him to stop and stay in his seat many multiple times, but it wasn't happening.  An older lady walked by and commented on how filthy his socks were going to be.  I sighed and agreed and she immediately responded with a cheery, "But it doesn't matter.  Who cares if his socks are dirty!"  And just like that I took a deep breath, and thought, "She's right. What does it matter, if it keeps him busy?  It's just a pair of socks."  Even though she didn't say much... her small, happy comment made me relax and remind myself yet again, that he's just a little boy and I'm doing my best.  It also made me commit to help frazzled mothers at the store when I am older, not make them feel worse or more frustrated.  I vow to comment on their cute rugrats, or notice something great they did, or just give them a smile and tell them I've been there and it's a hard, exhausting job.  I don't want to be one of those Negative Nasties who somehow forgot what it was like to have a rambunctious toddler in tow.

So.  Here's to spreading the love and being more nice.  Even to the strangers.