Wednesday, May 26, 2010

Where's My Helmet?

Having a two-year-old is kind of like having an angry NFL linebacker on steroids in a 30-lb body. Except you don't get the benefit of a helmet and pads.

Squish will get so filled with rage, she does this little dance... which I've aptly named the Rage Dance. She stands in place and waves her arms and stomps her feet and makes a sound like a volcano about to erupt. Why so much anger? Because I wouldn't let her have another bag of fruit snacks. Or Bean looked at her. Or the dog was within 2 miles of her while she was eating. At the height of her frustration, she refuses to talk, which just exacerbates the situation. So I'm trying to teach her to take a deep breath and "use her words." Right now she categorizes every problem as "WANT!!!" or "DON'T WANT!!!" Which is just so helpful.

Everything pisses her off right now. The wind blows her hair, and she's mad. The TV's too loud/too quiet/not a show she likes... and she's mad. Her juice has too much water in it (I'm a 50/50 water-downer), and she turns green and rips her shirt off.

I'm convinced children get PMS. I don't care what they say about hormones not kicking in for several years yet. MINE GETS PMS. And oddly enough, the cure is the same. A little chocolate, a bubble bath, and as little contact with other humans as possible.

After spending all day with my little tyrant, I have to remember to use my manners. When my adult friend is slow walking to the car, I should probably refrain from shrieking "CAR! NOW!" And when I go get a much-deserved coffee, I may not want to stomp my feet and holler "WANT LATTE! WANT LATTE!" and then dissolve into tears on the floor of Starbucks.

Although, who knows... maybe they'd throw in a free biscotti.

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