I watched a mother carry her kicking, screaming child out of a shop last week. They had been in front of me in the queue a few minutes earlier, chatting about how you had to pay for things in shops and not just put them in your pockets. And then, suddenly, the little girl bolted.
Her mum gave up her place in the queue and ran to follow her child. The little girl looked about three, maybe four.
They ran around the store, their words became shouts. The little girl reached tantrum mode in less than two minutes.
I watched as the mother, who gave up on her shopping, had to leave the store. She gripped her child horizontally across her body. The little girl switched between shrieks and screams and shouts and moans. Her legs kicked furiously. Nothing she was wailing about was intelligible.
From nowhere, the little girl who had been waiting in line and talking to her mummy, had flipped.