I have just bought Miss M a new T-shirt.
It says, ‘I’m the Queen of Tantrums.’
People look at her in it and think, ‘ahhh, isn’t she cute?’
I think, ‘Read the top, read the top’.
It’s not cute.
It’s a warning.
I am being a responsible citizen.
It means,
‘Evacuate all Areas.’
‘Run for God’s sake run and do not look back.’
‘Go, save yourself.’
You see, over the past 2 weeks Miss M Beaufoix has hit the ‘terrible twos’ with a vengeance.
She turned 2 at the end of January.
1 month passed and we waited with baited breath.
2 months passed and we watched other terrible 2 year olds and though ourselves lucky.
3 months passed and we heaved a sigh of relief
4 months passed and we decided our child was an angel. (Well, almost.)
Then, BOOM, we hit 2 years and 5 months on Monday and it’s as if someone pressed a switch somewhere.
Something must have happened on Sunday that led to a new path of synapses in her brain linking together to create a small monster.
We are now faced with a child whose fight for independence means that no one is allowed to help her in anyway without her asking for it.
We are not allowed to open doors for her – even big heavy doors where she is too small to even reach the handle. (I have to pick her up and let her tug on the door while I sneak my foot in at the bottom and help her.)
We are not allowed to open packets for her, or at least not until she has battled with them for a good 5 minutes and is red faced, tired and screaming.
We are not allowed to cut anything in two, e.g. bread, cheese, apples. If we do she screams,
M: “Mummy boken M’s bed. (This is toddler for bread.) My don’t want boken bed. Want nuver bed. ”
and then throws it, or herself, to the floor.
My little girl who used to put things in bins has taken to throwing them across the room instead.
And when she is upset she always screams for someone who is not there, i.e. Daddy, Ganny or Ganma.
Arghhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.
And I think, why do they have to do this bit?
The pain, the frustration, the wanting to throw things and hurt people? (And that’s just me.)
Then I realise.
It’s practise for 10 years down the line when she hits puberty…
P.s. Glad I’m not the only one with a tiny terror today, little monkeys.
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June 27th, 2007 at 2:16 pm
But she has such an angelic face!?!!
I’m afraid to say my little darling is about to turn 4 and is still bossing me around and telling me off for either helping her do something/not helping her do something/ or doing it the wrong way, at the wrong time, too quickly, too slowly………………
June 27th, 2007 at 2:23 pm
Looks can be deceiving Ingenious.
I mean, look at my Ostrich!
You’d think butter wouldn’t melt but sometimes she swears like a trooper.
June 27th, 2007 at 3:36 pm
Hey Jo, found your site through The Rotten Correspondent. Your post made me laugh, thinking about my four-year-old daughter, she still has to do everything herself. The fit pitching has mostly subsided, mostly. I wish I’d had a warning T-shirt for her when she was two. LOL.
J~
June 28th, 2007 at 12:42 am
Thanks Jen.
It’s so nice to know people are reading.
Glad the fit pitching has stopped for you.
For us, I fear it has only just begun…
June 28th, 2007 at 7:33 am
Thanks for the warning to duck for cover.
My sister Sarah went through this stage and it lasted over a year. It was torture, as I was 7 years older and often forced to babysit. It got to the point that when she’d fling herself to the floor in a tantrum and begin to scream, I’d step over her, leave the room, and shut the door behind me.
Oy vey. My mother used to say, “Sarah will never have an ulcer, but everyone around her will.”
June 28th, 2007 at 8:56 am
Susan, sounds like good advice to me.
You were obviously a very astute 9 year old.
Hope the ulcer thing didn’t work out though.
July 5th, 2007 at 10:17 pm
I’m with you sister!!
I had a love/hate relationship with my son’s two year old year. He was so amazing, yet so terrible! We’ll see how three goes….
July 6th, 2007 at 1:17 am
Hi Smiling mom.
Good luck with 3.
Hopefully he’ll be fine if he’s already done the terrible twos.
My older daughter E who is nearly 7 was fine when she was 2, but then we did get a little of the terrible threes instead.
She was nothing like M though.
I suppose it’s all part of growing up.
(Big sigh)
And it’s quite funny too at times.
You gotta smile.