Pankins and Pinchins

Ever just want to pretend you're not your child's parent for a little while? Times you could just be a bystander saying, "Somebody DO something to that kid, he's out of control!"?

Thursday was such a day. Not only had I gotten a bad night's sleep, I chose to spend some of my otherwise-cleaning-for-guests time in order to get Zurich guest passes to the Aquarium from my husband to our Israeli visitors. (This involved 4 vehicles , 3 counties, 2 extra hours and a partridge in a pear tree. ) We spent noontime trying to find each other in Baltimore County. Ben and Sarah were at work, Stephen was with my parents, and I alone had Joel. Not usually a hard thing, but this day was not usual.

We met Paul at Burger King in Towson and had a nice, quick lunch. I love lunch dates (or any dates) with my husband. Anyway, after he left, Joel played a little while in the BK "arcade" . No problem. Until it was time to go. There are 4 Nintendo stations in the semi-enclosed area, all like spokes around a hub. Embarrassing as it was, I sort of chased Joel around the circle, saying, "Come. Here. Right. Now." He. Didn't. Uh. Oh.

Pankin' in the van of the BK parking lot. Then....

I needed groceries badly. AFter all, our Israeli friends were coming for dinner after they went to Inner Harbor. So at 3 in the afternoon (when I'd rather be snoozing) I was at Aldi's with Joel. He pulled the "I don't hear you" body language on several occasions. He hid behind displays of tuna. He tossed things into the cart when I wasn't looking. Things not on my list of course. I spoke in tones that I thought meant business without abuse. I had to promise him a spanking in the van a couple of times.

At the register, he got out of line and crawled up on the bagging counter. Then he walked on it, up and down the 14 foot length of it. I'm telling him to get down (in staccato). He refused, I was praying mightily for self-control. I finally got out of line and bodily took him off the bagging counter and warned him sternly to hold on to the cart with both hands, and remind him that he just earned another (now three) spankings. Soon after, he chose to let go and run to the ceiling-high canvas fort at the far end of the last register. The bright blue fort has a rock-wall type side on it. He scampered up it like an Olympic athlete with shorts on fire. Once again I got out of line and marched over to remove my gazelle from the summit of the mountain (by the ankle). How good we must have looked. How composed.
Meanwhile I notice the lady behind me has only four items. My bill comes to $144.60. I am tempted to pay for her groceries as a consolation prize. I am tempted to pay the cashier overtime also. But I can't muster the courage to make eye contact with either of them and my face feels as hot and red as a summer tomato.

I finally got to the bagging counter with my stuff and told Joel to hold the bags while I loaded groceries into them. That lasted all of one bag, and then he started to dash away. I flung my arms around him, crouched down to his eye level, and pinched the back of his bare thigh.

He screamed, burst into tears and wailed, "You shoulda 'panked me, not pinched me. Pankins are better than pinchins!"

Well, guess what? In the van I gave him also the three pankins he earned in the first three aisles. I told him that Jesus died for his rebellion and disobedience. I prayed with him for power to obey, for strength to stay where he was told (when he would rather run away), for self-control when it's time to leave fun places. Ah, couldn't he as easily have prayed the same for his mom?!