As I’ve suspected in the past, along with two-year-molars comes two-year-old behavior. This was confirmed last week when Jack Henry’s first molar popped through and his behavior, that VERY day, turned into that of a toddler.
My sweet, baby-faced little pumpkin now becomes a monster during the portion of his day that is dictated by me.
And I’m pretty sure that the last shred of my sanity just packed her bags and walked out the front door a little bit ago. Sigh. I keep repeating my new mantra, “This is the last time I’ll have a 2-year-old, this is the last time I’ll have a 2-year-old, this is the last time…” but so far, it’s not helping.
Jack Henry has to put his own pants on, which means that they sometimes look like this:
He’s obsessed OBSESSED with Elmo. That shred of sanity? She walked out humming “La La La La, La La La La, Elmo’s World.”
He also uses his favorite word, “NO!” (or sometimes his other favorite word, “NONONONONO!NO!“), to answer virtually any question or even statement that is lobbied in his direction. And, he’s using the power of “no” + being a 2-year-old to limit his diet even further, which just infuriates me.
Yes, I know, this, too, shall pass. But it passes into three, which I’m also not crazy about for a lot of reasons, not the least of which is my last experience with a 3-year-old in this house.
The light at the end of the tunnel, though, is that Bennett (the afore-mentioned 3-year-old) has blossomed into a really wonderful 4-and-a-half-year-old.
Now, simply for entertainment’s sake, here’s the rest of JH’s tantrum.
So while part of me just wants to hit fast-forward on the next two years through the nonsense, the rest of me says “no way.” Because then I’d miss things like Jack Henry bringing me a marker and asking me to color with him, or him identifying and knowing that he loves the color green (so much so that his brothers are seriously annoyed that he’s used up their new green marker already), or him pretending to write his name when we’re coloring. Or the way he moves his 2-year-old booty to the beat of a song he likes. I’m trying hard to remember those moments when he’s shouting “NO!” at the top of his lungs for the umpteenth time and it’s only 8am.