We have one of those reusable fabric bags and Oliver was carrying it. It was empty and all folded up. We're in the nirvana that is the Lund's cheese department, and I turn around just in time to see Oliver take the bag and whack Alison over the head with it. As hard as he possibly can. It obviously didn't hurt her, but both of the kids turned to look at me. As soon as Alison saw the horrified look on my face she turned to Oliver and yelled "OLIVER MCAGHON!". I calmly looked at Si, told him I was going to take Oliver out, and wrestled the bag out of his chubby little hands.
This is the part where he starts wailing at the top of his lungs that he wants daddy. While I am carrying him from the back of the store all the way to the front. I keep repeating that we don't hit, that hitting is bad. Whatever, he doesn't care. He would please like the parent who isn't currently punishing him.
The situation deteriorates until we are all in the car on our way home, which takes about 2 minutes. Oliver is now screaming that he doesn't want to go home. We are all ignoring him. We pull into the garage. He switches to screaming that he doesn't want to live here anymore. This we can't leave alone.
"Where do you want to live, buddy?"
(heavy sniffling)"Me want to live at gwocewy sto"
"At the grocery store?"
"But there are no beds at the grocery store, where would you sleep?"
"Me want to bwing my bed to gwocewy sto"
This is concerning to Alison (they share a room and sleep in bunk beds):
"But Oliver, I don't want to live at the grocery store! I want to live here with Mommy and Daddy!"
(sadly,resignedly)"But me do, Ali. Me want to live there."
I guess he was just blowing smoke, though, because he's still living here.