Kicking and screaming

    Wow, it must be really hard being a 4 year old boy.  At least, that's the way it seemed when I attempted to retrieve him from preschool today. 
    Quinn attends a great little preschool here in Sudbury - wonderful teachers, great surroundings, and so many little friendships.  I picked him up as usual, lined up in the hallway outside his classroom, with a 19+ pound twin in a Baby Bjorn front carrier and the other twin, 20 pounds, balanced on my left arm.  Quinn came out of his classroom, dropped his backpack at my feet, and burst through the doors, where he preceeded to run around the school's front yard and up and down the handicapped ramp. 
     This running and playing was now part of our "normal" exit strategy, and I expected it now, had come to accept it.  I scooped up his backpack with my one free arm, and rushed out the door to make sure he stayed away from the road and parking lot.  Two other boys from his class burst past me and joined in the frenzied running and chasing.  Soon there were over 15 boys and girls doing this; we parents stood on the sidewalk and edge of the parking lot, admitting a temporary defeat, hoping we might regain control of our child if we just allowed a few minutes of freedom.
      I chatted with other parents, talking about recent illnesses, younger siblings' sleeping schedules, upcoming playdates and such.  After about 10 minutes, my left arm was numb, having to hold a 20 pound baby on it (I didn't dare put either of the girls down, and there was no such thing as letting one down and not the other, because pure chaos would surely insue!).  I gave Quinn a 2-minute warning as he ran by, smiling and shrieking, and following another boy under a bush.  I gave him a 1-minute warning; the fingers on my left hand tingling.  On his next trip down the handicapped ramp, I stopped him to say that it was officially time to walk back to the car.  He dodged the grab from my free hand, and ran away.  I followed him around a tree, between some bushes, back to the ramp...  next trip down I tried again, and caught him, but he again broke free...  I wanted to scream "Boy, come to your Momma, NOW!!!!", but we were in public, surrounded by lots of parents, some a bit uppity, and I didn't want to make a scene.
      Unfortunately, I had parked our <regretable> minivan too far away - I contemplated putting the babies back in the car, but then I worried that he would think I was leaving him, and that he'd run across the parking lot to catch me; I couldn't take that chance, so I had no choice by to make sure he left with me.  One Mother offered to hold the baby who was on my left arm, but of course, that baby was not having any of that.  I caught his coat on his next trip by and said <through clenched teeth> that it was 'time to go' - at first he completely freaked out, thrashing his body around, taking swings at me like a boxer, trying to get free of my grasp, which wasn't tight to begin with.  His hat fell off and another mother carefully placed it back on his head; he almost got free, but I told him that this was enough, we were outta here...  and he went limp.  Heavy, dead-weight, limp, very heavy.  I told him that I would drag his <lifeless> body back to the car if he didn't stand up right now, and I started to, noticed everyone watching me, wondering if I shouldn't be doing that, but I couldn't very well pick him up without a good arm to hold him with; then, my fingers got twisted and he fell free anyway. 
        Somehow I got him to stand up enough to walk back to the car, where I tossed him inside, and then set the "free" baby down inside the van, and shook my arm out.  I was sooo angry, completely pissed off, utterly embarrassed.  He let out the wildest, loudest, oddest scream when I told him "no tv, no snack before lunch" - I thought he'd been possessed by the devil.  He sounded like a wild animal: I honestly don't think I'd ever seen him like that before. 
         We were both so exhausted from that display, that the drive home was completely silent.  Even the baby girls knew not to even think about fussing or crying, they could sense the tension in the air. 
        I got everyone's lunch made and underway, but I couldn't let that whole debacle go yet.  I took several hours to be able to talk to him again without feeling the anger rise up or remind me of what had happened.  I know there will be displays like this one again, probably even worse <though that doesnt' seem possible right now>, but wow, this was a pretty rough experience.  I hope I can learn to deal with them better next time, keep my cool, help him to transition and acclimate better. 
        Serenity now!