I've spawned a monster.

Not so long ago, possibly at the exact moment he blew out his second birthday candle my adorable 'baby' boy turned into a monster. Suddenly his sweet smiles disappeared and he started pushing his older brother and sister over, shouting in their faces with a 'yeah what are you gonna do about it?' attitude, blowing raspberries at anyone who dared not bow to his desires, and having tantrums that could light the street with if only you could harness the power of his explosions. Yep, the terrible two's have arrived.

At first I thought he was just having a bad day, then I thought maybe he was coming down with something, finally I realised that he was just being a pain in the ass. (Sorry Baxter but you brought it on yourself).

Unfortunately other people have now started to notice. Last week when my sister was due to babysit she called in to quiz me on the arrangements. 'And what about the devils spawn?' she asked with narrowed eyes, 'he will be sleeping won't he?' (Hey I know, but it was free babysitting - what could I say?).

Anyway, the reason I'm writing about this now is because we went to the shops this morning. Both monster boy and his older brother were in the trolley and I was doing the usual sprint around the aisles before the fighting, tears, tantrums started. I think we were by the carrotts when I saw it. In the corner of my eye I noticed his little two year old arm swing back and then with full force shoot forward. Then I watched in slow motion as a bulb of garlic flew through the air and - I kid you not - hit a well dressed woman on the head.

What did I do? I did what any self respecting, mortally embarrassed mother would do - I ducked. (Gosh how interesting all those different types of chillies are - I really must get  a closer look, even if they are on the bottom shelf, right by the floor...).
When it was safe to come out I tentitively emerged and made it around the rest of the shop until - horror! - there she was - heading to the tills at the same time as me. All I could do was try to get to the checkout that was furthest away from the one she was going to - which I can report worked very well.
Until, that is, the four year old cried out delightedly 'LOOK MUM, THERE'S THE LADY THAT BAXTER BOPPED ON THE HEAD'.
Cue red face and desperate shushing.
'BUT IS IT MUM? IS IT THE LADY HE BOPPED ON THE HEAD?'
Oh God.
'THERE. OVER THERE. THAT'S HER ISN'T IT?
So whilst I slowly died of public embarrassment what did monster boy do? Smiled serenely in the trolley like this was the best day of his life.
Little devil - it probably was.