Let me start by saying that I realize it was a bad decision to stop at the consignment store on the way home. I knew Conan hadn't had a nap during the day, and while I was chatting with Christy after I got to her house he threw his snack on the floor and REFUSED to pick it up. I told him if he didn't pick it up, we had to leave, no more playing - and when he didn't, we did. Not an auspicious beginning to the evening, certainly.
But once we were in the car he seemed his usual happy and cooperative self again, and the consignment store is right on the way home, and I had the drop-off bag in the front seat... I decided to stop. "It'll be really fast. No problem." I told myself.
And in fact, it WAS fine. Conan found some toys he liked in the play nook, and I dropped off the bag and picked up a couple pairs of jammies and some sandals for him. I told him I was going up to pay, and then when I was done I'd come get him and it would be time to go. He cheerfully agreed.
I paid for my items and returned as promised to collect him. "Time to go!" I said lightly.
"Nooooooo" he whined. "But I still playing, Mama."
"Yes," I said, more firmly. "Time to go, like I told you it would be. C'mon now."
"FUCKING FUCK NO!" he screamed at the top of his lungs. "I STILL PLAYING!"
"YOU BAD MAMA!" he continued. "I SEND YOU TO JAIL!"
I should mention that Conan has lately taken to "hiding" (usually just covering his eyes with his hands) when he knows he's done something he shouldn't have. It must have been pretty clear from the expression on my face that he'd gone too far. So in a way it makes sense that his next move was to dart past me and dive under the nearest rack of clothes, still screaming "I still plaayyyyiiinn!" It didn't make it any more pleasant to dig him out from under it, crying and struggling, however.
Thankfully, everyone else in the store was suddenly REALLY engrossed in whatever items they were holding, allowing me to haul my sobbing, struggling little boy through the store and out the door while maintaining the fantasy that no-one had noticed anything amiss. That was nice of them.
Predictably, he fell sound asleep in the car on the way home and is now tucked in bed for the night. 45 minutes of quiet weeding in the garden helped me to settle my nerves. I tried to think up some kind of wise, pithy parenting lesson to say I've learned, but mostly I'm just left thinking "I sure hope that never happens again."