Whoever coined the phrase “The Terrible Twos” must have
counted wrong, because they start waaay earlier than 24 months. With both of my children, I can almost
pinpoint the week that they changed from Angelic-Babies-Straight-from-Heaven to
Screeching-Banshees-with-a-Penchant-for-Violence. There’s a look in the eye that wasn’t there
before, a sneer on their face when you say the word ‘no’, (which enters your
vocabulary with a vengeance at about the same date), and no regard whatsoever
for the physical pain they cause while kicking and screaming as you remove them
from the top of the diningroom table (or whatever dangerously high place they’ve
climbed to in the 3 seconds since you removed them from the last dangerously
high place.) All of a sudden, at 16
months, they’re not as cute as they were just a day or a week before.
Now, I know this is all part of normal development, and I do
want them to eventually function as independently as possible, but sometimes I
have to shake my head and just walk away from these creatures I’ve
spawned. Who taught them to look me
straight in the eye and grin when they know they’re doing something wrong? What is really so horrible about putting on
clothes? Do I not give them enough
attention that they have to resort to biting my leg?? Time outs are lasting
longer and longer these days just so I have time to nurse my wounds.
Like so many other things about parenting, my husband and I
declared to each other (and our parents) that we did not have to give in to the
social and cultural norms. After reading
Love & Logic, we thought we’d join those exultant
parents who laughed their way from 24 -36 months, welcoming each infraction
with a smile and an, “Oh, isn’t it great to have this chance to discipline our
child before they end up in jail?” We
wouldn’t even give name to the ‘Terrible Twos’. We toned it down a bit, trying to give it a
positive spin. ‘The Trying Twos’, we
said. This was at 15 months. When our oldest was probably 2, (about 9
months into the TT’s, according to our calculations) and had to be repeatedly peeled
off her sobbing and frightened playgroup friends, we gave in and called it what
it was, and then some.
Last week, my husband made the declaration that we could not
eat out for at least another year, or until our youngest was under control. While stopping for a mid-week dinner at Lao Szechuan, we alternately walked/ran/chased our youngest up
and down the sidewalks of Chinatown while the other sat eating in shifts next
to our very civilized 3 year old. So
much for a quick family dinner out. It
was all we could do to leave the restaurant without breaking or spilling
anything. I’m sure the other patrons
didn’t think her screeching was charming, either. The craziest part, though, was that we had
had that very same experience, just a few tables over, only two years before. And now, our oldest was sitting there like a
human being, enjoying her tofu and her Szechuan string beans, drinking tea, and making conversation. If 16 months is the new 2, then 3 ½ looks
like the new 5!
This is an original Chicago Mom's Blog post. Liz can be found relating other stories about her children not acting their age at SuLaLi.
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