2001 B.C.

One of my good friends from NYU is a woman named Jenn. Jenn moved to the left coast shortly after getting married in 2001. She was in town visiting her folks, so we were finally able to get together in Manhattan for dinner last night after years of exchanging emails and ims. As we were chatting away about poop, work, diets, celebs while exchanging updated photos, etc., we got to know Tyler. Tyler was about 3, maybe 4 years old and he was having a complete, knock-down, drag-out, full blown temper tantrum. His parents were mortified needless to say.

This scene took me back to the very last time she and I had dinner in late 2001 B.C. - before children. Same scenario - a kid was having a meltdown, her parents had that we-aren't-bad- parents -no-really - look. Jenn and I were absolutely appalled. I, of course blamed the parents - something must be wrong...this a clear case of the girl acting out in response to prolonged abuse. Jenn thought we should call social services or at the very minimum the police. That little girl became the focus of dinner and how there would be no way in hell our children would EVER act that way in public. It basically ruined dinner that night because it was incredibly annoying.

Fast forward to the present and there we were in the midst of Tyler's kicking and screaming break with emotional reality, not batting an eye. We even exchanged that knowing smile with Tyler's parents - that I-feel-your-pain-but-thank-God-its-not-me-right-now look. We never skipped a beat. With two sons at the very far end of impulse control, I happily enjoyed my mommy play date, needless to say, in complete and utter peace.