Cryo postponed, tantrums extended

Munchkin's cryo treatment got postponed last Wednesday. This time, he was aware that he hadn't eaten anything since Tuesday's dinner (late, at 10 pm) and worse, he wasn't the first in line for his procedure at the hospital. There were three babies - all under 2 years old - ahead of him.
It was tough on him: the little tyke kept saying he was hungry every half hour. Only my mother had the fortitude to keep him occupied for over two hours. At noon, a doctor from the OR said that an emergency implant surgery on an infant was taking far longer than expected. The earliest the OR would be free was 2 pm, but it could be longer. Munchkin's doctor too came out and said it might be better to reschedule the procedure for Thursday since the little fellow must be hungry.
So that's what we did - fed Munchkin and left the hospital.

After a quick lunch of McDonalds - coz Poppet wanted the toy that came with it, this time the hippo from Madagascar 2 - wherein the drive thru messed up our order (again!), I trudged to work to tackle work handed by a rather arrogant individual (long story, and not meant for this blog).

We normally get Poppet a small toy after his procedure - and this time, although the cryo was cancelled, he was adamant that he wanted a toy. He wanted mum to take him out in the afternoon - this is on a hot and sunny day, with no transportation available since we'd taken the car - so she called me and made me promise I or his father would get him something on our way back from the office. I spent a few harrowing hours at work while DH managed to pick up something for the kid at a toy store. We were late getting back and while speaking to my mother on the phone, Poppet came on the line. He asked his dad what he'd got for him and his father happened to say it was something small.

When we reached home (mum's home - in the same building) I found mum crying. Poppet was slightly insolent and I pretty much guessed what had happened. Ever since he'd learnt that the toy was 'something small' he'd taken off on my mother, saying she was "responsible" for the inadequate size of the toy. Under normal circumstances, mum would have given him a quiet dressing down (don't ask, she has her ways, and they involve no screaming and shouting, unlike yours truly). But she was already falling to pieces over his condition and him being hungry for more than half a day and having to go through the whole process again the following day. So she just broke down.

I felt it was inexcusable the way he'd behaved. He said he was sorry after he saw that his 'small' toy was actually a gorgeous racing car. But I couldn't get over his behavior so he got a stern lecture from me.

Later that night, I cried for a while after he'd gone to sleep, trying to tell myself that what I'd done was right. My head said it was, but my heart wouldn't forgive me. I still feel terrible about it - like a lesser being or something for having done what I did