My offspring turned two years old last month. I won’t deny that I dreaded it. Why? You know why. It is accompanied by its own, widely-acknowledged nickname, for heaven’s sake! The Terrible Two’s.
Turns out The Two’s in my house are actually originating a brand new nickname all their own…they’re known as the Thirsty Thirty-Three’s…and apparently no amount of coffee or tequila can make The Two’s feel easier.
Armed with nothing but exasperation and a keen sense of humor, I navigate The Two’s carefully…making diligent mental notes in an effort to learn from my near constant mistakes. While The Two’s change the rules in an infinite, and completely unfair, cycle of near disaster, I am clearly at a distinct disadvantage, however, I have noticed a few patterns of behavior that seem to help guide me. Allow me to introduce you to The Too’s…if you haven’t already met…
For real son, you actually DO need someone to help you put your shirt on the right way…and believe it or not, this actually isn’t my first rodeo. Also, holding my hand is still mandatory in busy parking lots, and no you don’t always get to pick what we watch on TV. Heed this warning: Too Independent is often accompanied by Too Bossy. The “bossy” position has already been filled in this house, and it turns out that Mom doesn’t really like to share either. How do you like dem apples?! You don’t. Which typically leads to…
Too. Much. Crying.
Here to answer the age-old question, “Is it really possible to run out of tears?” is my two year old. Interestingly enough, the answer is no. Also known as “white noise” in my house at this point. Nobody worry, he’s just mad that the blue Chuggington train car is moving faster than the red Chuggington train car. Logically...
Too Much Talking
While the words aren’t always clear…and they often don’t belong in the same sentence together, they are never in short supply now. Our sparkling conversations about bugs and cookies are often highlighted with words like “doo-doo-head” and “poopy-butt”. Having a four year old cousin rules, if I haven’t mentioned that before. Silence truly is golden. I never fully understood that adage until right now.
Sorry Mom, no time to eat, or put shoes on, or listen to you for even a second, I’m super busy kicking the refrigerator door right now. Also, I don’t plan to eat anything healthy anymore. Ever. So, good luck with that.
He’s been rubbing his eyes for the last five hours. He can’t stop yawning. His tiny body is growing like a weed right now. But, if you even suggest the word nap it’s about to be all “Where’s Waldo” up in here. Also, early bedtimes are for the birds now too. Hope you hate sleep as much as he does.
Too Much Interest in Life as a Nudist
Put your shirt back on, bro! And your pants while you’re at it! I understand the whole “getting to know your body”/self-exploration stage, but WOW! I was not ready for this much Full Monty. Please put your dangly bits back in your Pull Up so that you’re not so tempted to pee on the carpet. Again.
Too Smart for His Own Good
I won’t lie, I underestimated the brain power of this one. Also, the penchant for mischief. It’s a really good thing that I had those eyes installed in the back of my head back when I birthed him, because there’s no telling what sort of chaos he’d up to when I wasn’t watching. Being too smart and too sneaky also usually results in something, or someone, getting way too messy way too fast.
Too Funny and Too Cute to be Mad at for Too Long
This, alas, is probably the only reason that I still let him live with me. That smile…those hugs…that “I’m sowwie, Mommy” is far too irresistible. He’s a joyful soul. I adore that. One of my best friends refers to her preschooler’s life as “one big victory lap”. I love this idea. I see so much of that mantra in my own toddler’s spirit. It’s a tricky phase to navigate, but at least I love to hate it. He’s made damn sure of that.
The other shiny gem amidst the confusion and wreckage? None of these Too’s last for Too long! He bounces from one to the other and back again before I even know what hit me. A bit schizophrenic? Yes! But, also never ever boring. Some days with him are really hard, but most of the time when I look at him, it still seems TOO good to be true.
Author’s Note: Before you start warning me that the “Three’s” are even worse, please don’t! I’ve already heard it. Also, it’s sort of like telling someone at a busy street fair who’s been waiting in line for almost an hour to use a port-a-potty, “Do NOT go in there!” I’m going in. Even if it really stinks. There’s no turning back now…