There is a small, rather loud little boy in my home. He has two volumes: LOUD and LOUDER. When this imp goes to the store with me, he often shreiks and carries on, shouting and begging and whining for the day's most recent baubles. Under the duress, my best reaction is no reaction at all. I find that threats fall upon deaf ears, and some little boys don't have very good hearing or memory when it comes to the consequences of their actions. It is only after I arrive back at my home that I become a panicky. I realize how crazy and demented my life is and 'why did I ever even try that' and bemoan the fact that my youth is lost forever. I am old and tired and useless and incapable and have wasted my life and failed at child-rearing. These mental tirades go on until the the little boy falls alseep in the middle of the living room floor, or calls from grandma's to say "I appreciate you". We really do give so much of our hearts to those that can hurt us the most...