Carter’s been doing this screaming thing lately- it involves a lot of lung power and high pitched noise. It’s blood-curdling, to put it mildly. However, the most frustrating part is not the volume, it’s the cause. Generally, the motivation for his cry is something like, “Archie is sticking his finger in his ear,” or “the dog is looking out the window.” We spent much of a previous weekend talking about alarm levels and actual danger- that certainly, the loss of a limb would be worthy of his screams, but not the loss of a matchbox car, to no avail.
Then, Carter had his weekly playdate at a friend’s house. I called to ask how it was going and she reported there had been a “screaming” incident. (When I told Kevin, he eagerly asked, “is it like Snooks and chewing the electrical cord so now he’ll never do it again?”). Here it is, as told to me:
Friend is having a pleasant morning with the toddlers and doesn’t realize it’s past time to leave to pick up the kindergarteners. Swoops the toddlers into the car and races to pick-up, despite her bladder’s insistence that a break would be nice. Makes it in time, gathers three kids, takes them home for lunch. Has to make a turn around to our house as I forgot to pack Carter’s swimsuit. Goes through two different lunch orders before the kindergarteners actually start eating. Finally, time for herself.
She explains to the kids that she will be going upstairs and taking a few minutes to change and use the potty. She will be in the house, but unavailable, and if there’s an emergency, they will need to come get her.
She settles in, only to hear Carter screaming “Stop! STOP! I CAN’T MOVE!!!” She has images of the toddler somehow trapping Carter by the neck and calls out “Carter! Run away!!” She frantically attempts to put herself back in order for public consumption and races down the stairs to the playroom. (As she told me this story, I pictured myself pulling on pants while trying to walk and the usual result of me on the floor).
Carter is sitting by the fireplace. Toddler friend is sitting on the floor to his left, sucking his thumb and looking thoughtful. In front of him is a large rescue hero toy.
I’m certain at this point she had to take a deep breath.
Carter, using a more reasonable tone by now, explains that with the toddler on the floor, and the toy in front of him, he couldn’t move. My friend points to Carter’s right side, where there is a clear path. Carter says “oh,” and walks out.
She explains that the message she got from him was that he was in serious danger, and she would have prefered the message that he simply needed some help. Offers him words to use next time. Adds, “I thought you were really hurt.”
Carter looks at her for a moment, thinking, then says, “Well, my leg kinda hurts.”
