The one place I miss in Albuquerque is the botanical garden, so this morning Asher and I ventured to the Central Park Arboretum for some nature time. I packed a ton of snacks, we left in the most pleasant of moods, and it was a gorgeous day. What could have possible gone wrong?
Let's just say I [continue to] seriously underestimate the ability of a 2-year old to unexpectedly (and for no good reason) flip a perfectly lovely outing right on its ass.
So far so good...
Playing in the fountain...still going good
Loving the trails and the tall grass..nothin' has hit the fan yet...
BABY FROGS!
The path was covered in the teeniest tiniest baby frogs. My heart exploded.
Asher and I had a ball finding them then watching them hop hop hop over to the marsh...
....a ball, until Asher decided to stomp a baby frog.
You can just imagine the amount of coaching and reinforcement that had taken place ahead of it, "Gentle...don't touch....careful...we are nice to baby frogs...he is so little...look how cute!". When Asher started edging closer to one, I said again, "Asher careful, we don't stomp living things, especially not baby frogs." Which is when he completely disregarded my instruction and *STOMP*. Well. That didn't go over well. I yelled (no really, yelled) "We do NOT stomp baby frogs!" and swooped in to pick him up and see if the frog survived (...no dice). Which then led to another very stern (this time not yelling, in my defense) "ASHER. We do NOT stomp on animals. That is mean and it hurts them!". Well that was not well received.
Apparently I stomped on Asher's feelings & sense of autonomy because he then lost his mind.
What followed was a good 30-40 minutes of all out hysterics in the middle of a nature reserve.
It started with Asher sitting in the middle of the path, sobbing.
That didn't achieve the outcome he wanted, which was for me, 7 months pregnant, to pick him up, snuggle him like nothing had happened, and carry him out of the park. A good half mile walk, which is a big job for anyone with a 30 pound kid, but an impossible job for a super pregnant lady. Also important to keep in mind - while I love my child ENORMOUSLY, anyone who stomps on baby frogs is on my list. Anyone. So Asher is yelling "Uppy! Uppy! Uppy!" at me and I'm saying "I'm not picking you up and carrying you" (at this point I'm thinking the pair of red-winged blackbirds that have been observing this whole scene would make a great foster family for Asher...could I sneak out of the park without anyone realizing he belonged to me? ...half kidding...) which is when he decides to roll his way over to the swampy wet grass on the side of the path and submerge himself in a puddle. Leading to more hysterics because he got wet and dirty. At this point I literally just sort of gave up and sat down on the pavement next to him. My plan was to just hang out until he stopped crying. There weren't a lot of options other than this... Plan B was to drag him out by his ankles but I thought that would be questioned by the park ranger.
This is when strangers saved the day. Not because it changed anything about Asher's behavior (he remained a pint-sized lunatic despite numerous, well-intentioned interventions), but because right then what I needed was to be reminded that the world is a good and kind place.
One woman stopped with her dog to try to distract Asher, and when she realized what was happening, explained to him that she couldn't carry her dog out of the park and he had to walk...just like Asher should. Another man stopped and did a Donald Duck impression. One sweet lady tried to help carry him, which failed miserably, but still lovely of her to offer/try. And a different person gave me a reassuring pat on the back and said "Toddlers are hard". Thank you, lovely Minnesotans. You are the greatest people on earth.
We finally made it back to the parking lot. It wasn't pretty, but we made it.
When we got back, Karen had just arrived home too. Asher ran to his Grandma (eager to escape his still very frustrated and disapproving mother) and when she picked him up he said, sheepishly, "...stomped baby frog". He said it quietly, I think he was trying to hide his confession from me. I went straight to the kitchen, made myself an iced mocha, and started dunking birthday cake oreos in my big-kid-chocolate-milk until I felt better. P.S. Getting past an epic frog-stomping-2-year-old-meltdown-in-public takes a LOT OF OREOS.
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