I had heard about the Terrible Twos. They’re old wives’ tale quaint and antiquated, like when people would tell me not to reach above my head when I was pregnant. Hee, I thought. Surely my kid will sail on through his second year with his sunny disposition intact, and then we can be those annoying parents who are all “Oh, terrible twos? No, we didn’t have any of that.”
Then we spent the whole day with a toddler who looked like this (in varying stages of breakdown):
Tantrum that lasted a whole day? Check! Falling apart when I asked him if he wanted a sandwich? Check! Screaming and flailing when we told him that no, we would not be going to daddy’s office because we were, in fact, with daddy at the time (and the office was closed)? OMG WHY DO YOU HATE BABIES??
He finally took a nap, after literally screaming himself into exhaustion. Have I mentioned that we live in an apartment? I can only imagine the degree to which our neighbors loathe us right now.
So, yes. Terrible Twos? Not so much an old wives’ tale. Or maybe it was because I lifted my arms above my head before he was born…