tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14775685.post112887997776740218..comments2023-10-10T10:09:48.794-05:00Comments on Letting me be . . . random wondering and philosophy: Mall-eosis on the Escalator"ME" Liz Strausshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10711283307459944821noreply@blogger.comBlogger10125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14775685.post-1128943436763165032005-10-10T06:23:00.000-05:002005-10-10T06:23:00.000-05:00Hi Ned,You make a good point there. They like to s...Hi Ned,<BR/>You make a good point there. They like to show off for company too. So maybe my friend should have given her away then. :)<BR/>smiles,<BR/>Liz"ME" Liz Strausshttps://www.blogger.com/profile/10711283307459944821noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14775685.post-1128943053929470912005-10-10T06:17:00.000-05:002005-10-10T06:17:00.000-05:00Ah Janus,Sugar, the secret weapon. My brothers kid...Ah Janus,<BR/>Sugar, the secret weapon. My brothers kids never ate sugar except for when my brother cam home with nis family for the holiday--then they would let the kids dig in. The wall haven't recovered from being bounced against yet.<BR/>smiles,<BR/>Liz"ME" Liz Strausshttps://www.blogger.com/profile/10711283307459944821noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14775685.post-1128935502216646282005-10-10T04:11:00.000-05:002005-10-10T04:11:00.000-05:00Even the least pliable children are always much mo...Even the least pliable children are always much more mall-eable in the hands of strangers.Anonymousnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14775685.post-1128929983373665852005-10-10T02:39:00.000-05:002005-10-10T02:39:00.000-05:00My father just had to hint at going to the car to ...My father just had to hint at going to the car to discuss things and I normally piped down fast. My Dad was not cruel and I only remember getting spanked once, don't remember what I did, but I sure didn't do it ever again. <BR/><BR/>The only thing I had happen that I could relate with that was embarrassing is my oldest niece when she was about that age. She would just shout out to everyone that she thought was pretty.<BR/>"This is my Uncle Janus, and he's not married."<BR/><BR/>I think my sister put her up to that, but thats ok, I got her back. She didn't get to go back home to her mom until I loaded her with sugar.Anonymousnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14775685.post-1128907867741605562005-10-09T20:31:00.000-05:002005-10-09T20:31:00.000-05:00Scot,I think the highest compliment you can pay me...Scot,<BR/>I think the highest compliment you can pay me is to say that what I write gives you back your memories, especially those of your son.<BR/><BR/>thank you for that.<BR/>smiles,<BR/>Liz"ME" Liz Strausshttps://www.blogger.com/profile/10711283307459944821noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14775685.post-1128907706533566652005-10-09T20:28:00.000-05:002005-10-09T20:28:00.000-05:00Liz:I do so love these personal narratives you wri...Liz:<BR/><BR/>I do so love these personal narratives you write on the experience of parenting. I think in many ways the mall and food centers have replaced the proverbial "candy store." What used to be for parents a minor nuisance that was expected of their child but easily contained now gets played out on a much larger stage. A child out of sorts now is the cacophonous voice singing loudly from the opera. Sometimes it can be obnoxious as hell. I remember when my son was three years old. He wanted a cereal that was high in sugar content. I suggested Kics, but instead he persisted on his choice by having a very impressive temper tantrum. I turned and walked to the end of the aisle, and waited behind the endcap. After about five minutes he gave up with his wailing, and was happy with the Kics. Our shopping trips, mall or otherwise after that were much more pleasent. And so there you have it, me on another tangent because of the wonderful way your writing makes me reflect back on my experiences. <BR/>ScotAnonymoushttps://www.blogger.com/profile/13441809988487585009noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14775685.post-1128899372071149482005-10-09T18:09:00.000-05:002005-10-09T18:09:00.000-05:00Hi Liz,I know that look of your mom's. Mine had on...Hi Liz,<BR/>I know that look of your mom's. Mine had one too. I think that's that same look that all husbands are acared of. :)<BR/><BR/>Every 3-year-old has his or her moments. I'm sure I had mine and I know my son did. But you're right there are some people who let their kids run all over. I just try to remember that wwhat I think is one could be the other.<BR/><BR/>Anyway, I thought my friend's answer at the time was a great one. <BR/><BR/>smiles,<BR/>Liz"ME" Liz Strausshttps://www.blogger.com/profile/10711283307459944821noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14775685.post-1128899087912320892005-10-09T18:04:00.000-05:002005-10-09T18:04:00.000-05:00My mum had good control of things. She would say, ...My mum had good control of things. She would say, "if you don't behave yourself, you are going to get it when we get home." And she meant it. Then she would give me a look.<BR/><BR/>At the mall, if I do something that displeases her, she would give me that look.<BR/><BR/>At least your friend's kid isn't running around by herself up and down that escalator. There are parents who totally let their kids make a pest of themselves in public.Anonymoushttps://www.blogger.com/profile/13441809988487585009noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14775685.post-1128894974616959932005-10-09T16:56:00.000-05:002005-10-09T16:56:00.000-05:00HI Edgar,Nice to see you. Yeah I know exactly wha...HI Edgar,<BR/>Nice to see you. Yeah I know exactly what you mean. Kids and malls are a bad comination and everyone things the parents are the problem.<BR/>smiles,<BR/>Liz"ME" Liz Strausshttps://www.blogger.com/profile/10711283307459944821noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14775685.post-1128894789032127942005-10-09T16:53:00.000-05:002005-10-09T16:53:00.000-05:00I raised four, and it happens just like that every...I raised four, and it happens just like that every time. You and your friend nailed it perfectly.Anonymoushttps://www.blogger.com/profile/13441809988487585009noreply@blogger.com