Small kids, standing in line aren't made for each other
There are things more maddening than waiting in a long line with an untethered 4-year-old. Intellectually, I know this is true.
The thing is, it's absolutely impossible to be intellectual when said 4-year-old has tired of waiting in line and has moved on to something more interesting. How can I have any coherent thought at all when I'm desperately trying to hold back a banshee wail? How can I think of anything but the fading slap-slap-slap of the little slippered feet as my daughter scurries out of sight?
Smart moms would never find themselves in this situation. No, they'd have come in with strollers, leashes or (gasp!) well-behaved children who think nothing of spending a half-hour in a slow-moving line.
Me, I'm less smart, but perhaps more optimistic. I can look at a line and think, "No problem."
Usually I can assess a line and figure out whether I'm going to need intervention: a grocery cart to contain the child, a snack or toy to keep her busy or an 11-year-old to chase her down.
The times I get in trouble are when I misjudge my daughter's moods or the length of time we'll need to spend in line. When I misjudge both at the same time, I'm lucky if I ever make it to the head of the line.
The problem is that somewhere around the time I start feeling like I've made an investment in getting to the front of the line, my child has become too bored to possibly stay in one place any longer. While I'm inching farther ahead in the line, she's inching farther away, examining the displays one by one, each one a little farther away than the last.
At that point, the best I can hope for is that she'll find something she wants me to buy and will come back to negotiate the purchase. The worst is that my daughter will disappear from sight.
In the first few seconds of denial, I'll stand on tiptoe hoping to be able to signal my daughter back to my side. I'll inch my way out of line, attempting to summon her back with a frustrated hiss before I have to step out of line completely.
I feel like I have a chance as long as she's within earshot. Too bad it takes her about half a second to move out of range of my "inside voice."
That's when the madness begins.
There are worse things than having to step out of line to retrieve my daughter, for instance, being unable to find her. Intellectually I know this.
It's just hard to remember when we're standing back at the end of the line.
Reach Treena Shapiro at tshapiro@honoluluadvertiser.com.
