Today, Oh, Today!

Today just wasn't what I hoped it could be. ***sigh*** Maybe my expectations were too high. The Boy and I have been having some good times at the beach over the last several weeks, and he's really been enjoying the ocean over the last few days. So I thought it was a no-brainer. It's hot, sunny, nicer at the beach, The Boy is in a good mood, etc. No. Not to be. Even though he asked for the beach at 7:11 am when he woke up and it was still foggy and cold out, he wanted to go. We ran errands while it warmed up, and of course, he got underfoot the whole time and I tripped on him and "accidentally" pushed him into the shopping cart (no, really!) and he bumped his head, so I dealt with Crisis #1 at Walmart. I took him to the beach after lunch and he insisted on bringing his new Tonka truck and tractor, and so I thought "hey, that's fun.... something to do for him there" while bringing along The Man's boogie board for The Boy to play on. The Boy didn't want to go in the water ("too cold, too wet" was his "reason") and decided instead to play with his new toys. I made the crass and totally inappropriate and illogical statement to The Boy: "This is nothing but a big sandbox; you could have stayed home and played in your sandbox! Why come here if we're not going in the water?!" The Boy decided that I was being logical for once and stated that he wanted to go home and play in his sandbox. Imagine my surprise when I said "no" (okay, I don't know what I was thinking... the sun must have damaged my brain) and The Boy invoked Crisis #2. From the looks of sunbathers around me you'd have thought I told the little weeping child huddled in the sand with his precious trucks clutched in his sticky hands that Santa Claus died. I should have been shot on the spot, I know. We went home, but on the way I thought "Oh, fun! Let's get ice cream!" (I know, I know, I need to stop thinking.) The Boy and I shared a big old chocolate cone (a treat, not a regular repast for us) and had a good time "taking turns". When we finished, the little person sitting next to me smeared in chocolate goo was so surprised and upset that his ice cream was over that he hit me. Meet Crisis #3. As I tucked the wailing boy into his car seat I received dark looks from fellow farm market shoppers that said the scary woman should never have been a mum. (Hey, I'm right with you there on that one today!) Could the day still be saved? WackyMummy presses on: "Let's go play in the sprinklers at Nannie's house!" Yay! Jubilation! We go. Within what seemed like only minutes there are more tears (some of them The Boy's), yelling, and two exhausted humans getting back into the car to head home. Crisis #4. I decided to call it quits: gave The Boy a quick supper (fruit and his precious milk), an episode of Diego, and a sleepy boy is off to bed. Somebody save me!!! Any advice? Is this behavior normal for a 2-year-old? (Or a tired, cranky 30-something year-old?) I'm crossing my fingers and putting my hopes on tomorrow. (Knock on wood.)