Terrible twos, my ass. MY ASS. To any and all of you currently struggling with the terrible twos, I invite you to come spend a couple of minutes dealing with the Impending Threes. Remember this photo from exactly a year ago?
I’m almost two and my life is a heaping pile of dog shit.
I now present to you Wito’s emotional state at 6:45 this morning.
Such a beautiful day! May I have some blueberry yogurt?
I now present to you Wito’s emotional state at 6:46 this morning.
I DON’T WANT SIX BLUEBERRIES IN MY YOGURT! I WANT FOOOUUURRRR! THIS KITCHEN FLOOR IS TOO HAAAAARD AND I DON’T LIKE YOU, MOMMY!!
Other notable changes include:
1. Waking up at 5:30 a.m. in his big boy bed, jumping out and running into our room, screaming, “WHAT ARE WE DOING TODAY, MOMMY?”
2. Melodrama. While gleefully playing with his trains on the floor, Wito will suddenly look at me with insta-tears in eyes, pleading with me to get him some raisins from the kitchen. OMG, the drama. Just ASK for a snack, kid. No need to reinact Brad Pitt’s sobbing scene in Legends of the Fall over a damn box of raisins. (Will I ever quote a movie from the current decade? Stay tuned!))
3. Completely asinine requests that are nearly impossible to perform. “Make a blue truck sound, mommy. No, that’s a white truck sound! I SAID A BLUE TRUCK SOUND! BLUE TRUCKS GO BRUUUUUM, WHITE TRUCKS GO BRAAAAAM.” (Once again, dissolving into a puddle of tears on the floor.)
4. Constant repetition. The current favorite around here is, “Where are we going to next?” (TIMES 13,000) Where are we going to next, kid? TO THE ORPHANAGE.
5. Walking up to me, putting his chubby-knuckled hands on my face and saying, “I love you, mommy.”
Uh, forget everything I just said. #5 makes up for everything, doesn’t it? Someone buy this sweet, long-lashed angel a pony!