When my brother was three he realised that he could get whatever he wanted by sitting on his bottom and screaming very loudly in public spaces. He would refuse to move from wherever he was sitting until he was bought whatever his heart desired. My parents often gave in just to stop people staring at them like they hit their baby. But then my mother had enough.

My father was not impressed by this suggestion.
With that he decided to take us all toy shopping. Rather than have to deal with us all in the shop, he left my sisters and I sulking in the car.
He then marched into the toy store with my brother trailing behind him.
It wasn’t long before my brother spotted something he liked the look of. A small tricycle.
He threw his usual tantrum.
My father probably thought he’d solved the mystery of child-rearing when my brother stopped crying immediately.
But my brother was quite a conniving child. He took a different tact.
He hopped straight on the tricycle and started cycling towards the exit.
My father didn’t even notice as my brother pedaled furiously towards escape. He made his way under the till barriers and out through the automatic doors.
From the car we could see him emerging.
We glowered as he made his way towards the car his arms outstretched in glory.
We were more than a little annoyed.
Then we noticed the giant man sprinting after our brother trying to catch him. It was the toy store’s security man.
My father was following sheepishly behind and looked mortified when he was presented with my brother.
Needless to say we excitedly recounted the tale to my mother.
The next time we went to the toy store they had implemented some new security measures.

 

 

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