Temper, temper

She’s looking up at me with a scowl on her face, eyes growing smaller and more certain by the moment. She is silent.

I’m not sure whether she’s going to cry because her lips have disappeared into her mouth, but I know if she does it’s going to be loud.

I quickly scan the last few moments in my mind for a clue: No toys were dropped, lost or otherwise taken away. No toes were stubbed, no fingers jammed. No voices raised or lowered. I don’t remember looking at her cross-eyed. I didn’t utter the words nap, or no, or uh-oh.

Too late: the tears have come as she drops her head back and opens her mouth wide.

These days being the mother of a toddler is a lesson in composure, comprehension and just plain self control.

I can pretty much rest assured that public place will turn it into a three-ringed circus with spotlights turned in our direction the minute we arrive.

Not that it’s a bad thing. We can be quite entertaining at times: We growl and bark and dance around. We speak with silly voices. We sing and chant, eat and drink, and toast each other with cheers and clinks of glasses.

But that dime only goes so far until the meter runs out and our little squash blossom is flailing her arms and turning full-on tantrum.

We can always trace the gloom back to ourselves. We kept her out too late, didn’t feed her on time, or just didn’t understand that she wanted The Dog and not The Daddy. We don’t have a Rosetta stone for her personal lexicon and her words are growing by the day.

Meltdowns are inevitable. I used to think it would be embarrassing to deal with tantrums in public, but I found that carting a toddler through a football-field-sized expanse of hardware store, searching for the nearest exit while her piercing shrieks escalate with each passing aisle, can be strangely liberating.

I learned I could withstand the piercing looks from strangers. I wasn’t even compelled to interpret the stares or whispers. I just needed to find “Out” so I could deduce the syllables streaming out from between the sobs.

Most new parents will tell you that they have trouble keeping their face straight as their little one’s turns from red to purple, or when little flapping arms pick up enough momentum to seemingly take flight.

Some might even admit dealing with problems — stacks instead of rows, yes instead of no, blue instead of green, up instead of down — can be fun.

When all goes well, a parent can be part detective, part linguist and even part superhero.