TWO strikes again

It happened, Peanuts.  It did.  Let me just be clear; I knew that it would. 
I was not shocked, amazed, or caught unawares with my illusions shattered in pieces by the electronics section.  No.  I've looked after enough kids that I couldn't bother with the whole "MY child will never" thing (which is the only way most of us can trick ourselves into becoming parents at all. Me? I'm just nuts). 
But even if you never deluded yourself into believing it wouldn't happen, or if you had already realized there was a high risk it could be you one day, when it actually happens? Being prepared does not help.  It is still just as horrible as you knew it would be.  And it was.  And it happened today.  Our very first Big PUBLIC Tantrum.  *sigh* 
Not that we've never had a time-out on a curbside.  Oh. We have.  But this was a real tantrum.  A TWO tantrum.  She did not throw Herself on the floor, but that might only be because She was confined to a shopping cart, and then- rather immediately- to my vice-like arms.
We were in a store, of course.  In a huge warehouse of a store, in the very, very back. Of course.  So that I had the lovely experience of walking aaaaaaaaaaaalllllllllllllll the way down the aisles full of gawking shoppers with a screaming, writhing tazmanian devil.  "Oh hi, another shopper. Or you're noticing? Why yes, it's spectacular, isn't it?  Found it in aisle seven!"
Out the door, and into the pouring rain.  Into the car seat.  And (because of the pouring rain) into the car for me too, to listen to the delicate, refined notes of Two climb their way through various octaves and rattle around in my skull. 
Shhh, I whispered to my belly.  Don't get any ideas in there. I waited without moving, without speaking.  Watching the rain and pondering how much fun this will be with another small person added to the mix.  Life gets more and more exciting as we go!
Let me tell you.  Little One is a sweetheart.  She's a good little listener, She's very easygoing, and She is very easily redirected, even when hungry or tired.  She's generally a dream of a toddler, especially when we are out and about. But it doesn't matter. 
It doesn't matter how sweet, how calm and mild or how darling any toddler is,  I tell you there is no avoiding it. The public meltdown is pre-programmed into their genetic code.  No one knows exactly how or why.  But just as their little bodies somehow know when it's time to sprout a new tooth, or finally get grow some hair, the Public Tantrum, too, is In There, waiting to pop out. What can you do?
I had a hot, red-faced moment of actually considering giving Her what She wanted, just to stop the stares.  But then, thankfully, I gave myself a nice mental smack in the face and said, "snap out of it, me!"  What matters isn't the strangers, what matters is that this was a wonderful opportunity. A teaching moment.  A "for future reference, This is not going to work out" moment.  So we made our way down the long aisles, alerting everyone to our teaching moment with a nice blaring siren call, and wailed on through the rain and in the car until it sunk in.  "Well", Two finally decided, "this isn't really getting me anywhere. And I'm getting tired. Oh well." 
We had a nice cuddle and a good, serious chat.  And then, despite the fact that we might as well have been wearing name tags that said "Hi! I'm THAT mom!" and "Hi! I'm THAT kid!"  on our foreheads, we went right back in the store, back up the long aisles, right where we left off, and started again. 
We had not so much as a pout the rest of the day, and it may be that we've got it all out of Her system in one go.  Or it may be that we just hit "snooze" on Her little ticking time-bomb.  
In the meantime, I feel the same about this as I did about Her first dirty diaper.  One the one hand, Ew.  Really not pleasant.  On the other hand, well.  All right then.  It may not be Her most flattering moment but, well, at least She's developing normally.  I guess there's nothing to do but be thankful for that, deal with the mess, and move on.  One day She'll handle Her own poo, and Her own emotions too.  And then I'll probably miss the days when She was small enough for me to scoop up in my arms, and carry to the parking lot.