A Perfectly Good Fit

Toddlers throw fits. I get that. They scream and kick and bite and punch. At least, my toddler does. He's perfect, so of course he throws a perfectly textbook temper tantrum. He starts off with a stomp. Or maybe a test kick aimed at mommy's shins. He then finds himself in timeout. He head bangs the wall, lets out a few timed shrieks. And, in precisely 3 minutes (by the oven timer), his fit ends.

Until last night. He cried; screamed; punched; kicked; bit; and banged. For forty minutes. I soothed. I timeout-ed. I reasoned. I threatened to take away his John Deere trailer. I sent him to his room with instructions not to appear until he could talk to me like a human. Forty minutes later, he talked. Watery eyes. Snotty nose.

"I no wanna go to gymnastics," he tells me. "I'm scared." Last night was his first big-boy class; that is, mommy had to sit on the other side of the glass wall. So we visited. We talked about Coach Becky and his classmates. I convinced him he could just watch.

We missed the dancing, but we made it in time for roll call. And, seeing his friends and his  Coach Becky, he turned, waved, and called "Bye Mommy!"

This was public R.J. Campaigning. Brave. Fearless. He climbed the rock wall. Bounced on the trampolines. Rode the big swing. And when it was done, he cheered, "One, two, three, we love gymnastics!" He had fun (even though he said he didn't.) He was proud (even though he said he wasn't).

I understand. I've had hearings that made me cry. I woke up in a cold sweat the night before. I've said, "I think I'm going to quit. I don't want to go to court."

And then I go. And I argue. And sometimes the Judge disagrees. Heartily. And I remember my dad's advice, "Judge can't eat ya'. Why are you worried?" Public mommy lawyer. Strong. Fearless. With shaky hands that a podium hides.

And when it's done, I've had fun--in that sick twisted way that lawyers have fun. And I'm proud--even though I'll tell you I'm not. So, I try to remember that my toddler may throw a perfect fit, but he's had a perfectly good (er...bad) example.