There is no reasoning with a child - particularly one who is between the ages of 18 months and 48 months. Yes, it’s a long window. A very, very long window. Long. Some insist that the “2’s” are terrible. Some believe this is a terrible assessment to make on our children. I’ll hop in the middle here - the kids aren’t so terrible, it’s the feelings their behaviors evoke from humanity that is terrible. Things like screeching, screaming, kicking, biting, scratching, “no”-ing, screeching and pitching are all - at least uncomfortable - of not just plain terrible. These little people can be just plain unreasonable. Period. Don’t argue with me. I’m right. Un. Reasonable.
Take, for example, my friend’s 2+ year old. Here’s just a smidge of her story:
“She asked for juice this morning, so I took the cup out of the fridge and she went postal on me.
‘No wawer! Juice!!’
‘It is juice, Missy. See?’ I poured a bit more apple juice in it so she could see it was juice.
‘NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!’
Reading about my friend’s little dramatic interlude with her spawn reminded my of my own. My darling Lucy, who will be 2 soon, bears a striking behavioral resemblance to her little friend many miles away. Actually, they bear some physical resemblance as well, but that’s not my point here. If Lucy doesn’t believe that milk is in her cup - milk is not in her cup. It doesn’t matter if it looks like milk, smells like milk and sticks like milk… it must come from the place she decides milk originates from. That would either be the milk container or the last sippy cup she believed milk was in.
“Look Lucy…”, I say above the wailing and gnashing of teeth.
“Look at Mama. See, it’s milk! It’s milk!” I open the cup and try to prove my point as her head begins to turn wildly, her body begins to levitate and her eyes turn flame-red.
OK, so it’s not quite THAT dramatic, but it sure feels that way.
Oh, our blessed toddlers. Our beloved children who take us to places we’ve never been. Heed my warning - “TWO” is only the warm-up. Their fangs and horns of independence are just starting to poke through as early as 18 months (mind you, that is a whole 6 months before “2″…). Put on your listening ears people, the “Therrible Threes” are fast on the heels of the “Terrible Twos”. But take heart, dear mothers. I am not trying to discourage you, but to prepare you. This is normal, and it is to be expected. It is unavoidable and, most importantly, you are not alone.
Remember my words, when you have pinned your almost 3 year-old boy to the floor of the toys store. You have pinned him, but he’s spitting at you. He spitting with such force you wonder if he has stored gun powder in his stomach. He is spitting… for his legs can no longer kick, his arms cannot hit, and his mouth can no longer reach your skin to bite you. Oh, and you’re 9.5 months pregnant. I, my friends, have been there.
Remember that, when your toddler girl just can’t get enough liquid delight. Water in tea cups, water in bottles, water in anything that might have an edge, that may or may not hold liquid. I have been there.
Remember that, when you find billions of little pieces of toilet paper or kleenex littering your home as if your little girl were leaving you a trail to find her in a dark, scary forest… I have been there.
Remember that, when your little one discovers your stamps and uses them as stickers… when ketchup is no longer a condiment, but a beverage…. I, indeed, have been there.
Remember that, when you little boy discovers the wondrous sweetness of syrup and shares it’s sticky sweetness with the carpet in the living room and his bedroom… I too, have been there.
There are many other things too… consumation of unflushed toilet paper, bodies being used as the art easel, and the least of my worries - stickers and drawings on the walls … I think, for survival, my mind has not allowed me to access all the experiences.
You are not alone, you are not alone…
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