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!
Darcey
July 16, 2009 at 1:05 pmAwwwww…. I remember when my sister was going through that phase. And with me at 13, I was not impressed that she could draw tears if I even looked in her direction, pinch her own arm and tell Mom that I pinched her. Now that she’s 19, I take every chance to pinch her for real.
Rebecca (Bearca)
July 16, 2009 at 1:06 pmI’m not laughing AT you, I’m laughing WITH you.
Three is a million times worse than two. Two just lulls you into a false sense of security because you’re wonder what people are talking about with the phrase ‘Terrible Twos.’
And then they turn three and it kills you. Dead. Evan threw a massive fit one day when we were at some friends’ house and “the kitty looked at meeeeeeeeee!!!!” I was like um, OK.
The good news is that they will get over it. You know, when they are FOUR AND A HALF.
.-= Rebecca (Bearca)´s last blog ..late adopter =-.
Lauren
July 16, 2009 at 1:06 pmA pregnant friend was complaining about the terrible twos her daughter’s going through. I said that the twos were nothing, and three is much harder. I see now that it may have been a mean thing to tell a pregnant woman who’s barely hanging on as it is.
lisak
July 16, 2009 at 1:07 pmOh yeah. Anybody who talks about the terrible two’s hasn’t had a three year old yet.
Rachel
July 16, 2009 at 1:07 pmTruer words have never been spoken. 3’s are hard and tiring. It is a good damn thing that #5 really does make it all worth it.
.-= Rachel´s last blog ..Me and food are TIGHT! =-.
Jill
July 16, 2009 at 1:07 pmOh, I hate to break it to you, but my 4 year old is still doing all of those things. We taught him how to tell time on his digital clock so he wouldn’t get out of bed before 6 a.m. And one of my most commonly used phrases, “Yes, buddy, I heard you the first 16 times you said it!” And the melodrama, sweet mammyjammy, kill me now! But then he runs up to me at preschool when I drop off the show and tell item I forgot earlier, breaking away from playing with this THREE girlfriends, and gives me a great big kiss that just makes my whole day better. So yeah… not all bad :-)
.-= Jill´s last blog ..Wordless Wednesday — I guess I see a little resemblance =-.
Kerri Anne
July 16, 2009 at 1:07 pmAnytime you need a break, feel free to ship Derby to Portland. If and when he starts floor flailing there will be a pug right there who will be all too happy to lick his face. Can anyone keep from laughing while a pip-squeak pug is prancing about, wanting to perpetually lick your face, or elbow, or any body part he can reach? (Survey says “not likely.”)
xo
.-= Kerri Anne´s last blog ..No Bees, Please =-.
Metalia
July 16, 2009 at 1:09 pmOh lord, The CRYING OVER NOTHING, do I ever hear your pain. Three is kicking my ass. This morning, I was jolted awake at 4:37 a.m. to the shrieks of a child whom the universe had wronged, because his “PILLOW ISN’T PROPERLYYYYYY!” Properly WHAT, you ask? I only wish I knew.
Amanda Nicole
July 16, 2009 at 1:11 pmI think it’s hilarious that you take photos of Wito’s temper tantrums. They’re far better blackmail material than cute bathtub pics.
.-= Amanda Nicole´s last blog ..we’ve arrived =-.
roz
July 16, 2009 at 1:14 pmHello, my 6 1/2 year old son started this business around age 2 or 2 1/2. I’ll let you know if he ever grows out of it.
Susan
July 16, 2009 at 1:14 pmI have to agree that the three’s are way worse than the two’s. Both of my girls hit the “terribles” in there three’s.
Talk With No Thought
July 16, 2009 at 1:16 pmI’m sorry – crying or not, that kid is just too frekkin cute!
.-= Talk With No Thought´s last blog ..Weekend Update :: Volume 9 (The God Bless America/Al Anon Chronicles) =-.
samantha jo campen
July 16, 2009 at 1:22 pmI am laughing. And I CAN laugh because my only kid is 16 months old. I know it’s looming ahead of me but I’ll enjoy what I have now while I can. And that involves snorting at you guys :-)
.-= samantha jo campen´s last blog ..Like Jaws, but cuter =-.
Melissa
July 16, 2009 at 1:30 pmAh yes… My son’s 3rd birthday is Saturday, so I am right there with you! And #5 really does make up for everything. Including the bloody nose he gave me from bodyslamming into my face earlier today. (Got me out of cooking supper, anyway.)
.-= Melissa´s last blog ..time it was =-.
Angella
July 16, 2009 at 1:30 pmI have said it before, but I will say it again.
He and Emily would be fast friends. Or mortal enemies.
(Regardless, I cannot wait to smoosh him next week.)