I was with my niece this weekend, and I learned two things: dirty diapers are seriously disgusting, and sometimes I just want to throw a good old fashioned temper tantrum.
Seriously. Some days, I want to throw myself on the sidewalk, kicking and screaming so I don’t have to go into the office. If I didn’t feel like going there one day, would it work if I just wigged out on the concrete? Would someone come running and coddle me while I held my breath and turned red face in refusal of my daily routine? Then they would direct me towards a new activity that didn’t involve the one I reacted so violently to.
Or what if I went to someone’s house for dinner and decided that I didn’t like what they were serving? What if they busted out the mousaka and blue cheese crumbles? Could I just take my hand and whip the food all over the dining room because I didn’t want it? That would be sweet. I never would have had to train my gag reflex to go into sleep mode whilst I choked down food and held my breath.
It would be sweet. And no one would really yell, because you don’t yell at screaming, crying babies, right? And people just expect them to wig out at times—when did we lose that privilege? And why, as adults, are we denied the ability to express our emotions in the purest form? If we were sobbing hysterically because we didn’t want to sit in our chair, why doesn’t anyone pick you up, carry you bouncing around and rub your back until you stop crying?
Some days, I seriously just want to stomp around, kicking and screaming to make sure that someone realizes I am NOT pleased. Oh well. I suppose that’s why they invented alcohol.