The Screaming Banshee

I’m not a sadistic person. Let me just get that out there before I continue on with this post. I don’t necessarily like to see people tortured and suffering, but to have my husband have to deal with one tenth of the drama I deal with on daily basis does bring a smile to my face.

Yesterday, I had my Nuchal exam and since my husband was in town, he decided to tag along. He didn’t know what to expect since he was travelling the last time I had one while pregnant with Davey. It was also a plus since the appointment was right after Davey’s swim lessons and I had zero time to get him to my aunt’s house (she normally watches him when I have a doctor’s appointment).

Being the good mother that I am, the one who thinks ahead, I made sure to bring some toys along in order to keep Davey occupied. I knew my husband could also entertain him, but again since I’m not a sadistic person i don’t want my husband to necerssarily suffer through our overly rambunctious child while in a doctor’s office. I suppose I underestimated Davey and really had perhaps relied too much on swim lessons to wear him out because the fiasco that was about to occur rivaled most anything I’d ever seen and the only thoughts running through my head were, “thank God my husband has to deal with this and not me” and “oh my, what could the doctors, nurses, and patients in the waiting room be thinking?”

First, as we sat in the ultrasound room, I listened and watched with tension as Davey slowly walked around the little room inspecting his surroundings. For the most part, he was fine, but of course that was only for the first 30 seconds that we were in the room. Once he realized all the gadgets and doors and drawers didn’t have locks on them, it quickly became a free for all. My tension soon faded to relaxation as it then dawned on me that I truly couldn’t do anything, since I was laying on the bed with the doctor and nurse trying to get the latest version growing in my womb to move around. I actually decided to lay back, hands behind my head, as my husband was forced to deal with a child more squirmy than a fish out of water!

Eventually, my husband took him out of the room and I smiled at the nurse. I said, “I don’t mean to sound ungrateful or nasty, but I’m so happy that Davey is behaving this way for his daddy.” Was that wrong of me to say? Perhaps, but it was just nice to see my husband have to frantically chase after our demon child for once.

Of course, when I walked out into the waiting room, what I saw rivaled anything I’ve ever seen. My son was running around the chairs, mouth wide open, arms out wide, screaming like a banshee. I looked around the room to see the other people cringe especially when Davey decided to climb on all the chairs while still screaming like a banshee. At first, I looked at my husband as if to say, “what are you doing? Can’t you control our child?” But then, I just shrugged my shoulders. If he didn’t care, neither did I.

My oh my how times have changed. I used to be that person who cringed at other kids who behaved the way my son did. Now, as long as he’s not mutilating someone or something, then I really don’t care. Again, that may be the wrong idea. I should perhaps be more authoritative with my child and restrain him, but again he’s a 20 month old. He’s really harmless….I hope.

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