It gets better

I just came from grocery shopping with the kiddos.  Pretty uneventful.  The usual shenanigans.  Kids begging for cookies and cake and donuts and toys, whining that they're thirsty.  No major fighting.  We've had better, but we've certainly had worse.  I wasn't hungry.  It was early in the day and I wasn't exhausted yet.  My husband isn't traveling. Basically, a regular day in the life.

At one point, my daughter ran over to the donuts and went out of my sight for a second.  I called her back over.  She didn't come.  I wasn't afraid.  I knew where she was at all times.  I went over and got her, knelt down to her level, and gave her a calm but firm "talking to" about listening to me, and about staying with me in public.  I warned her that if she couldn't stay with me, she would have to ride in the cart.  A+ parenting.  All good.  Nothing to see here.

A nice old lady gave me a sympathetic look and said, "It gets better."

Um, lady, seriously?  It gets better?  This is NOTHING.  This is me calmly correcting a kid who got overly excited about donuts.  It was kindly meant, and I took it as it was meant.  I'd rather hear "It gets better," than "Hey, keep your kids on a shorter leash, would you?" or "Whoa, you should totally be on Supernanny!"  But, lady, if you think that little non-event warranted an "It gets better," you have no earthly idea what my life is like.