My dad and stepmom told me that when my brother was a toddler they read how kids go through periods of equilibrium–when the universe is rosy, everyone plays nice, and “self” and “control” are used in the same sentence–followed by periods of disequilibrium–times when toy trains are thrown like missiles and Trouble is everywhere.
The highs are high and the lows are low. And the whining. The whiiiiiiinnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnniiiiiiiiiiiiiiinnnnnnnnnnnnnnggggggggggggggg. Trouble is so ubiquitous that it’s post-traumatic stress inducing.
Just last week I would have told you that I was a strict parent with a polite toddler who says “kiwi” for “thank you,” which makes us all laugh politely at tea time. He carries the little saucers to the dishwasher, and he’s always looking out for the needs of others. Or at least the needs of Baby Woww, whom he makes laugh while I take photos for the baby book.
Frankly, I was a little high on my high horse. But we got bucked right off that nag.
It’s hell over here.
K-Pants wants Mama, then Dada, then his blankie, then a book, then blocks, then Super Why, then the park, then his toddler bike, then a treat. And that’s only about 15 seconds of toddler circus. And it’s all in whiny-whiny voice. Which isn’t allowed, but there are so many things coming at me that aren’t allowed that it’s like a game of Whack-a-Mole. Hitting! Throwing! Screaming! Whining!
Lately I’ve been looking at my husband with desperate, crazy eyes when he’s about to take off in the morning. Don’t leave me. Please don’t leave me. The little people are in charge and I don’t think I’ll survive another day.
I’ve been asking other parents for advice, and most of them say, “He’ll turn four some day.”
You’ve. got. to. be. kidding. me.
I’ve heard it enough that I know they’re right, but that makes me scared. Very scared. Because K-Pants is two-and-a-half. And you know what’s going to happen when K-Pants turns four? Then it’s Baby Woww’s turn at the terribles.