The best Hurricane

Hurricane Child canters through the store, marking everything in his path. My hoarse voice breaks and heads turn as I compete to calm the storm that is my child. "For goodness sakes! Stop climbing the shelves! Put that candy back! Where did you go? Watch where you are going! I'm going to leave you here! Get in the cart! No, I am not buying that." With a wild chase I swoop up the ever-moving little boy and buckle him into the cart despite his shrieking objections. For a moment, he is contained, but can one fully contain a storm? From the time it takes me to pick up the eggs and put them into the back of the shopping cart, my son slithers from his buckled state and stands up to his full height in the moving cart. An audible gasp comes from onlookers around me. I can imagine their thoughts only too clearly. "Worst mother ever!" They must be judging as I sternly tell the young boy to sit down before he breaks his neck. But the words that come out of their mouths are so much worse. "Awe!!! He is so cute! Look at that big smile and his adorable curly hair." I stare horrified as the words of praise enters my son's brain. Winds start to blow as the grin widens on the face of the ego-stricken boy. He stands in the cart once more and starts to shake his little bottom in a goofy dance. I do the only thing I can think of while the child picks up his vigor. I wrap my arms around him, cradle him, and blow on his belly. I am swept away with the hurricane as I spin in a circle, The thunder of my boy's laugh breaks through the dull life of the shoppers. Everyone in the store blows away and my full attention is on the crazy, energetic life force in my arms. We dance through the checkout line and out to the car where, exhausted, I smile at my boy. I love my stormy child, I think as he sings me a made up, beatboxing song in the car. He is the best kind of storm.