We all talk about it, comparing notes. There are forums devoted to it, T-shirts printed about it and thousands of cases of wine sold a year because of it.
The terrible, terrible two’s.
Some people (*cough* me) are rudely thrown into the spin cycle of the terrible two’s with little to no warning. There is no gradual progression, no easing in. One day, you’re fine, basking in the glory of having “the perfect child”, the golden boy, he-who-can-do-wrong… the next day a screaming demon has inhabited your once angelic cherub and the smugness starts to wear off… fast.
For us, it hit sometime after his second birthday, like a hurricane, complete with flying furniture and dinner plates. We were shocked, bowled over by what seemed to have been a Category 5 storm that had just slammed into our lives.
Hurricane TT… you trashed our house and caused anger, frustration and grief… and you only weighed 34 pounds.
Oh the terrible terrible two’s.
But while most of us moms and dads struggle through the irrational behavior, the screams, the tantrums and the chaos, I just began to realize just how terrible the two’s really are.
My baby, who mere months ago was learning how to talk, is learning how to read…
My little boy, who a heartbeat ago was crawling around our house, is learning how to ride a bike…
He’s lost the baby in him and has become a little boy all of a sudden, who doesn’t always needs his Mama or want to hold her hand.
He’s growing up, up and away from me, like Jacks infamous beanstalk. But while he struggles with his independence, he still wants to cuddle. He tells me to go away, then begs for one more story, or a kiss goodnight. He is a study in contradictions, all frustrations and tantrums, love and snuggles. He is two and soon he won’t be.
Oh you terrible terrible two’s.
