What Was on the Floor - Jennifer Baljko

Alex, the two-year-toddler I was babysitting for a friend of mine, was more than determined to walk up the slide, not via the stairs, but to go straight up the slide. I had previously hung out with him and his mom before, and I know his mom wouldn’t have let him do that. So, the joust begins. I tell him no. “Alex, please use the stairs instead.” He keeps going up, giggling at the top as he starts to slide down. He goes up again, the same way as before. This time I pick him and put him on the ground. He gives me those devil-red eyes, sending me straight to hell. He again starts his ascent. Again, I grab him mid-step. There weren’t any other kids around and we were in his backyard, but I throw this out anyway because I don’t know what else to say, “This is not fair for the other kids who might be waiting. You have to use the stairs.” We go back and forth a couple more times, each asserting our authority.

As a last resort, he throws himself on the ground and wailed. My eardrums pop and I’m sure there’s blood dripping from my inner ear. I’m glad my memory hasn’t cracked. I have a quick recall of a brilliant commercial I had seen somewhere in Europe. I don’t even remember what the ad was selling, but the rest of it made an impression. A mother and her young child are shopping in a grocery store. Of course, the child wants something and the mother says no. The tantrum starts and the child slammed herself onto the floor, pitching a fit. A couple seconds later, the scene repeats and this time the mother falls down to the floor, screaming like banshee recently released from the insane asylum and without her meds. Everyone in the store stops to stare. The child gapes at her mother, absolutely horrified by this bizarre behavior. The mother gets up, dusts off her pants. She doesn’t say a word. But her look says it all, “So are we going to do this all freaking day, or can we just go shopping like normal people.”

The entire commercial flips through my head at lightning speed. Without thinking, I hurl myself on the grass. I kick my legs wildly, bat my arms like a seagull, and yell many decibels louder than the toddler next to me. Alex stops his fake crying, stands up and glares at me for a long time. He had never seen an adult act this way - that much was obvious given his dumbfounded expression. I stand up, and give him my best “Now what?” scowl.

Without saying a word, we decide the battle of the slide was a draw. We move on to the sandbox.