The classic. Supermarket. Saturday. Busy.
Seemed to be a dispute over the purchase of nasty looking green plastic figure ressembling a cross between T-Rex and Boris Johnson.
Note I say "Seemed to be", because this time it was not my Stropper. With not an insubstantial amount of schadenfreude I watched the woman who had just swiped the last Mississippi Mud Pie from under my nose (I swear she grinned at her achievement) deal with her very own Stropper.
Ohhh could that Stropper let loose. My own Stropper, not yet versed in the delicacy of the subtle glance, stopped dead in it's tracks and stared at the spectacle. It was a sight to behold. Full floor throw, legs and arms full pelt and even some attempts to kick passers-by. Impressive I thought.
10/10 for effort.
No idea. We walked off after finding a rather sad looking chocolate cake substitute. The screams could be heard for quite some time though.
Dismay Factor Percentage:
I suspect pretty high. At least 90%. Lots of predictable tutting and shaking of heads from the "Older Generation" no doubt muttering something about clips round ear holes that did them no harm. Little pity from me. I'm sorry to say the cup of human kindness fails to runneth over when someone denies me chocolate.
Watch this space for when the karma comes to kick me up the butt!
What's the worst strop your child has had? Let us know.
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