I don’t have a complete story here, only a verbal sketch of a scene pulled from an old journal. I’m posting this entry especially for those of you who know how much fun it is to travel with a cranky limp toddler in the concrete city. 

 

cookie

August 2007 (Max is 2 and half)

Max and I were taking the subway home from Petra’s apartment, and 2 guys board the train, singing and jingling a bag of change. This little light of mine, they croon, and Max is clapping in perfect time, and I’m so taken by his enthusiasm, I have to give him some coins to give the 2 singers. I dig and dig to the bottom of the backpack, trying to retrieve my wallet as the men wait and wait and wait, singing and jingling, for the 40 cents I scrape together and hand to Max, who suddenly maybe doesn’t want to fork over the money, but eventually does, much to my relief. Only then do I realize we’ve missed our stop.

Up on the street, Mr. Independent does not want to hold my hand. He folds his arms behind his back, but I insist, and to get back at me he goes limp as a carcass, dangling from my hand as dead weight.

“Pick me up. My legs don’t work,” he says.

I drag his body across the sidewalk, trying to look as humane as possible, and I offer up one of Petra’s chocolate chip cookies as an energy source/incentive for the 5 extra blocks home. He accepts the cookie and still refuses to move. This is so ridiculous I phone Kelly (college best friend, pediatrician, loves kids) all the way in Texas just to share this moment with her. She asks if I can up the incentive from a cookie to something more.

Luckily Max is finally motivated enough on his own accord to get up and walk, even to talk to Aunty Kelly. Except ten steps ahead is a standpipe, which he absolutely has to sit down on, so I continue talking to Kelly until I notice that Max is putting his hand in some unidentifiable red substance smeared on the neighboring standpipe, and at that point, I see that substance is also smeared all over the pipe that he is seated on as well.

Whatever Wednesday: Walking with Mr. Crankypants
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4 thoughts on “Whatever Wednesday: Walking with Mr. Crankypants

  • March 11, 2015 at 3:00 am
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    Haha! quite amusing to read love the name Mr Crankypants LOL I bet you wasn’t amused you missed your stop 🙂

    Have a crankypantstastic week 🙂

    Reply
    • March 15, 2015 at 11:39 pm
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      you know, 7 years later it doesn’t seem so bad…

      Reply
  • March 15, 2015 at 2:23 pm
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    Oh, this resonites in my soul as a mother! Aurelia used to have similar moments. Little Miss Crankypants. Tired, fed up, and too young to realise Mommy wanted to get HOME. To crash on the sofa, as tired as she was.

    Reply
    • March 15, 2015 at 11:43 pm
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      Carry me!! I am so glad they walk now. Wow, I can’t remember the last time I picked up my son, but I think it was only 2 or 3 years ago. *sigh*

      Reply

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