The store was crowded and hot and we’d been in there far too long. Perched in the shopping cart, my three-year old began yawning, a sure sign his nap time window was passing me by and we were living on borrowed time. Meanwhile, my six-year-old dutifully pushed the cart while I strode through aisles, looking for just one more thing. I could see her little legs beginning to drag, could hear the first hints of, “Is it time to go yet?” After all, she had just spent the last hour weaving through the store alongside me, picking out gifts for loved ones, and assuaging her brother about the toys that he wouldn’t be able to get today. A skillful helper, a loving big sister, an enjoyable companion. But our patience was starting to wane; the signs were all there.

And then, across from the candle aisle, where I leisurely sniffed each glass jar, attempting to  ascertain the subtleties between these discount scents, my daughter spotted it. Something she she had to have, something she could not leave the store without. A plastic cup to make yogurt parfaits.

 With our cart already loaded with $316 worth of gifts and necessities, the answer was no. Cue imminent meltdown. As I tried to swiftly make my way to the checkout line, my daughter stood screaming about the injustice of not getting the parfait cup, a fervent cry that this piece of plastic was essential to the trajectory of her life. 

We’d been here more times than I care to count, and defeatedly I thought – Aren’t we past this? It soon became clear that all my usual parenting tactics – holding and listening and explaining and reassuring – would be worthless in this moment, none would soothe her. Because it wasn’t about the parfait cup, it was everything else, all the unexplainable and overwhelming and out of control things in the world of a six-year-old that just need a release. Oftentimes in the most inconvenient time and place possible. All I could do was let her feelings be heard, however loudly, and try to move through the checkout line as quickly as possible.

But emotions, especially the visceral expressions of a child, make many people deeply uncomfortable, and a stranger, operating under the guise of Santa’s helper, circled close. 

“You can’t have something now, it’s too close to Christmas,” she said to my distraught daughter. “And if you’re not good, Santa won’t bring you anything.”

I gave the woman a forced grimace and tried to move us though the line.

“Santa doesn’t like whining,” she added. Icing on an already horrible Christmas fruitcake.

But she wasn’t done. As we made our way slowly, too slowly, through the checkout line, the woman continued to heckle us with comments about how my daughter was being a bad example for her little brother and reminders that Santa was watching. When that didn’t seem to have any effect on the still screaming child hugged in my arms, she moved onto me.

“What is it she wants anyway?”

“Why don’t you just let her get the cup?” 

“How much is it?” 

“Why don’t you tell her if she wants it she has to put a toy back?”

I didn’t realize this store was running a holiday special on child shaming and unsolicited parenting advice. Just what every parent needs this holiday season! Please see Karen in aisle 9.

Holidays can be fraught with big, uncomfortable feelings, for all of us. Expectations build, finances are stretched, time slips away, tense family dynamics are brought to the surface, and the to-do list seems endless. It’s enough to make me, too, want to break down and wail over the tiniest, nonsensical thing. Kids are not immune to these pressures. As much as we try to shelter them and make this season magical, their intuitive bodies feel it, like snow in the air. They feel it in the late nights spent at holiday parties and the extra sugary treats enjoyed. They feel it in the buildup of excitement and the expectation to wait. They feel it in the overpacked schedules and the incessant consumerism marketed directly towards them, until they’re caught up in a whirlwind of toys and stores and online ordering. Not to mention being dragged along on endless errands by hapless mothers who lose all sense of time (guilty). 

It all gets to be too much, for all of us, and sometimes all it takes is a yogurt parfait cup to tip us over the edge. While us adults may be able to control when and where we express these frustrations – mainly in the confines of our homes at those we love the most. And we may be able to bring ourselves back to a place of holiday cheer with a break and some breathwork (if we’re aiming for healthy) or a drink and a Christmas cookie (if we’re acting out of desperation), it’s not so simple for kids. Physiologically, their ability to self regulate and control their emotions develops far more slowly than most people care to acknowledge. We hold kids to a standard that their brains literally cannot meet.

And when they fail to meet these unrealistic expectations, during this already taut time of year, we tell them they’re bad, we tell them they’re undeserving, we tell them they’ll be left out and looked over. I don’t have enough words to dive into the damaging implications of making kids believe they have to act “good” in order for an old white man to sneak into their house and give them presents (the work of which falls on the backs of mothers, not said man, but I digress…). Suffice to say, telling kids they must behave in a certain way to get gifts is unreasonable at best and harmful at worst.

More than that, in the moment, it’s simply not helpful. Emotions don’t follow the line of logic, and when a parent is dealing with a screaming, flailing octopus child in public, the last thing they need is another person casting judgement. That parent, and child, need compassion, they need love, they need understanding, they need patience, they need support. All these things that we forget the holiday season is supposed to be about when we find ourselves caught up in the stressors and consumption of it all.

I finally swiped my card and scooped up my daughter, trying to hold onto her thrashing body while pushing a fully loaded cart and my toddler out of the store. I could feel the eyes following me, I could feel the sense of defeat of another shopping trip gone awry, I could feel the doubt creeping in about my own parenting abilities.

On the curb, the cold air hit us.

“Can I help you?” A woman asked, seeing me struggle to keep a hold of it all. “I’ll push your cart.” 

A saving grace, my load lightened. The greatest gift I could have received in that moment.

If you’re looking for a gift for a parent or child in your life, pass by all the expensive toys and fancy gadgets, give them something they really need. Compassion, reassurance, support, understanding, a hug. And if you encounter a stranger struggling with a child who’s screams pierce your ears from the other side of the store, offer them a hand, a word of encouragement, acknowledgment that they’re doing their best. At the very least, offer them the space to feel and figure things out shame-free. Because as cliche as it sounds, it’s also the truth – the greatest gift we can offer each other is kindness – and we all need a bit more of it, especially this time of year.