Terrible twos are a very real thing, aren’t they?
This little face.
Half the time it’s crying, half the time it’s asking for snacks, half the time it’s set in attack mode toward a sibling, and the other half the time it’s sleeping, often in my bed, all snuggled up and patting my face with a little smile.
I find this age equal parts adorable, leg-clinging love and brain-achingly frustrating, stubborn independence.
Every day – every hour – is something of an emotional roller coaster. So many emotions, so little control. I get that the only way to learn that control is to let the emotions out all over the place and slowly dial them back, but seriously.
It’s a good thing everything he says has that cute two-year-old accent, and his eyes have that irrepressible sparkle, even when he’s woken me up too early, presenting me a stack of paragraph-filled books before the croaky grogginess has even left my voice.
Every day I am his worst nightmare and his best friend, the one who takes his favourite blanket and insists he pick up the toy he just threw across the room, and the one who gears us both up for a run in the rain to jump in the biggest puddles we can find.
The amazing thing about two-year-olds is that they only remember the good moments. Unfortunately this also means they’ve actually forgotten the rule about not throwing toys, and it’s like starting all over again the next day.
But then there’s an Easter egg hunt, and there is joy and memory, and the toy throwing thing is once again forgotten.
It’s insane, and it’s frustrating, and it’s enough to make you question every parenting choice you’ve ever made, but it’s also a pretty special way to live, looking through the eyes of a two-year-old.
The others are *obviously* turning out so calm and self-controlled, it’s only a matter of time for him, right?