Seriously. It’s ridiculous, but right now this seems to be me. Add as much age as you like, there will be adults who will tantrum, or not manage their emotions like toddlers.
A few years ago, my sister bought my nieces up to London. Little lady must have been around 3/4 years old at the time. We were crossing one of the busy junctions in London. You know the ones: the broad way crossings where you need to get past at least 3 separate green men before you can get to the side you need.
It was either me or my niece who dropped a Robinson’s fruit shoot bottle as we were crossing the road. It was purple, and was being reused as a water bottle. None of that awesome sugary fruit juice left. It was purple though, and it was the BEST Robinson’s fruit shoot bottle in little S’s world. Apparently.
Of course, it was too late to get it back now. It was ready for its new fate. Any moment now, it would be crushed. Useless for its current purpose as it changed into a new shape moulded by the bottom of the wheels of London’s traffic, joining the rest of the MOOP* and debris that litters the streets.
Oh, she tantrummed. She cried, and she screamed. She wanted *that* purple bottle back. Did not want the orange replacement we offered, even if it had better drink in it. The drama. No body could possibly understand just how good that bottle was.
Of course, as with small children… she did soon forget, and moved on.
I have been throwing a tantrum recently. Things haven’t gone exactly to plan. Instead of it being London’s traffic crushing my favourite things, friends and circumstances – it has too often been me.
Is it a bad five minutes, a bad day, or a bad week?
I may have lost my metaphorical purple fruit shoot bottle, but I need to figure out what my orange one is, and embrace it. It might not have the same sentimental value as the purple – we always miss the old – but that doesn’t mean that can’t be just as good. 🙂