The Truly Terrible Twos

I am convinced that the reason the phenomenon commonly known as the “terrible twos” doesn’t happen until that particular age is simply to allow for the survival of the human species. It takes parents two full years of bonding to become hopelessly attached to a child enough that we don’t simply wrench their precious little heads off after the twentieth spontaneous unreasonable tantrum within a 30-minute span of time.

My son’s “terrible twos” weren’t too bad. By the time he turned two, he was speaking quite clearly and in complete sentences (more often, in complete paragraphs), so he didn’t have a lot of frustration from not being able to make himself understood. He was also unusually physically coordinated so he didn’t have a particular issue with frustration from not being able to do things he wanted to do. His main source of frustration was really from me telling him he wasn’t allowed to do something, rather than from not being physically able to do it. And being an older child, his only competition for my attention was a 3-month-old lump of a baby sister who didn’t do much but occasionally cry and occupy my lap or my arms when he wanted to be there. His behavior at age two was somewhat annoying at times, but it was NOTHING compared to my daughter’s since she’s turned two.

If I ever wondered what my daughter’s puberty will be like, the last month since her second birthday has given me plenty of hints. Much like an adolescent girl, she has developed her pouting and flouncing skills to the utmost. Like a sullen teenager, her response to any activity I suggest she do is a monosyllabic “no” or a barely verbal “uh-uh.” And like every moody teenage girl that ever lived, her emotions are on a hair trigger. If her father or I so much as look at her funny, she dissolves into tears. She doesn’t like what’s for dinner? Tears. She wants to play with a toy her brother is using? Tears. I turn off the television? Tears. Someone sneezes in the next room? Tears. A dog barks on TV? Tears.

And naturally, the tears are rarely, if ever, a case of simple crying. Oh, no. The tears are invariably accompanied by scream-sobbing, hurling herself to the ground, rolling around, and kicking and flailing. If I try to pick her up during one of these episodes, I can count on her attempting to push away from me any way she can, including punching, kicking, and – luckily, only on very rare occasions – biting. Since she weighs roughly 26 pounds, it is difficult but not impossible for me to restrain her. (When my son turned two he was 3’3” tall and nearly 40 pounds of pure muscle, so it’s very fortunate for me that he rarely pulled that particular stunt.)

So how is it that parents get through those difficult months that comprise the “terrible twos”? For me, it’s the moments between the tantrums that are so delightful and endearing that get me through the rough patches. My daughter’s language development is exploding – nearly every day I hear her use a new word or a new combination of words. One day she doesn’t know red from blue and the next she is correctly identifying the color of half the things in the room. She’s gone from getting most of the letters in the alphabet right to spelling out the words on every sign she sees and singing the alphabet song with next to no help. Her play is getting more creative and elaborate. She is imbuing her dolls and stuffed animals with distinct personalities. The other day, she made two of her stuffed bears have the following conversation:

“Bye, Dad. Car. Dada gone. Sad. Crying. Where go?” (I assume this was Daddy leaving for work, as this is generally our personal family scenario in the morning.)

(Deeper, “daddy” voice) “Bye. Soon!” (“Soon” is her abbreviation for “See you soon” and often follows “Bye.”)

“Dada gone. Swing? Slide?” (Apparently the baby bear wanted to go to the playground.)

“Mmm-hmm. Swing. Slide. Bye!” (Daddy approved of the playground idea, I guess.)

“Mama, phone? ‘Hi Dad’?” (I’m guessing this was a request to call Dad at work.)

(Higher, “mama” voice) “Yeah, phone.” (I’m not sure, but I think Dad left the stage and re-entered as Mama Bear.)

How can you listen to a conversation like that and not forgive a few kicking, screaming temper tantrums? As long as my kids keep me laughing now and then, their lives are safe. And considering how funny my kids are, I think they’ll both stay safe for a very, very long time. 

Sneaky Milestones

Every parent watches for milestones in their child’s development. There are many obvious milestones, particularly with small babies: the first time they roll over, or sit up without help, or take those first tentative steps. Some milestones come a bit more gradually: learning to talk or read or ride a bike or use the toilet, or outgrowing a car seat or a high chair. Some of them are specific events, like the first day of school, or the first sleepover at a friend’s house, or senior prom, or going away to college. But there are many other milestones that are more subtle, but equally as powerful in reminding parents that their children are growing up. They’re the milestones that sneak up on you.

I hit one of those sneaky milestones the other day when my son and I came inside after playing in the snow. After I hung up my coat in the closet, instead of hanging my son’s parka on the hook when I usually put it, without thinking I grabbed another coat hanger and put his coat on it. As I was reaching to hang the hanger on the rod next to my own coat, it suddenly struck me: My son is grown-up enough that his clothes fit on adult-sized hangers.

There are other sneaky milestones that you often don’t think about until they’ve passed. Things like not having to hold your child’s hand in the parking lot because you can trust him to stay close to you. Not having to remind her to say please and thank you. Letting them play in the yard unsupervised. Leaving them in a room with an open box of crayons knowing you won’t come back to graffiti on the walls. Realizing that the subjects of their paintings are recognizable as people or animals or houses. These are the sneaky milestones that can easily slip past without notice. But they are still hallmarks of development, quiet proclamations that your child is growing up right in front of you.

My son is only three years old, but already I find myself looking back at his baby pictures and wondering where the time went. My mind boggles that in the short span of three years, he has transformed from a personality-less (but adorable) lump into an articulate, interesting, polite, smart young man.

Whose clothes fit onto adult-sized hangers. Wow.

Grasping at Straws - and Hippos, and Monkeys, and Bears

Ryan is reaching the stage where he is finally starting to be able to control his hands. He started off by randomly flailing in the general direction of what he wanted, then by deliberately flailing more specifically in the direction of what he wanted, and now he has enough control to actually deliberately bat at what he wants and most of the time, with enough persistence, grasp it. It's a very exciting time!

As with anything else, he has a few favorite things that he loves to hang onto. One of the first objects he did well at grabbing was a plastic ball made of rings:

He likes it because it rattles, it's good to chew on, and if he flails in its general direction, his fingers get caught in the rings and he can hang onto it fairly easily. It also makes very good noises when he flings it across the room. (By accident, now - no doubt it will be very much on purpose in the weeks and months to come.)

Another highly grabbable toy is his teddy bear:

Bear is very soft and squeezable so any part that Ryan grabs allows for a good handhold. Bear has the added benefit of having many chew-worthy parts: ears, hands, feet, even the brim of his hat and his little curls. Ryan doesn't seem to mind the lint factor; apparently the nappy texture that would make an adult gag feels just lovely on those tender gums. Bear can also be squashed extremely tightly to the body without damage to either baby or bear, which is apparently a very positive trait in Ryan's mind.

Of course, his beloved spitrags also belong in the grabbable category:

Not only can they be grasped at any point, tugged in any direction, and are useful for chewing, waving around, and dropping on the floor, there are literally four dozen of them in the house so there is always one (or five) close at hand.

But by far the most fun toys to grasp these days are the animals hanging from his bouncy chair:

The lion in the middle plays music (or purrs, or meows - which will be very confusing when we learn the animal noises: "What does the lion say?" "Meow!" "No, the cat says 'meow'. The lion says 'roar'." "Not MY lion, Mummy!") when you pull his ring, the monkey on one side rattles, and the hippo on the other jingles. The lion is still a bit too far for him to reach (although he does bat toward it often), but he absolutely delights in hooking his wee little fingers through the hippo's and monkey's rings and shaking them all over! The drawback to this toy is that the weight limit of the chair is 25 pounds, and since he currently weighs 24 pounds...well, YOU do the math. He's practically bottoming out in the chair now anyway, and at that angle whenever he bats at the lion the rebound nearly smacks him in the face so it's probably a good thing we stop that one soon.

I can only imagine what he'll be grabbing on to next. Anything within his reach, I'm sure! I love watching him gain more and more control day by day, and although my life will be made much more difficult once he can grab things on his own, it will also be much more exciting!