People cry about the evils of the so-called “terrible twos” in every parenting book ever written, and perhaps for some people there is such a thing. In our house this was not the case.
Instead, we sailed through the “twos” with nary a whimper. Sure there were times when Emily was grumpy or a bit stubborn, but it was nothing we couldn’t handle, nothing that gave us any cause for alarm. We thought ourselves not just safe, but above such things. It seemed then that we had somehow brought this upon ourselves with our superior parenting and fine luck.
We were wrong.
The “twos” departed and in their absence the “Oh my god, what have we done to deserve this? threes” have descended. Last October, clearly as one sign of the coming apocalypse, Emily embraced her new role as the world’s most obnoxious child. She doesn’t just push the envelope or test her boundaries; she makes it clear that she looks at me with nothing but pure teenage distain.
“I am NOT taking a nap! Never! Ever! Never!”
While I am not a believer in karma or in reincarnation I am beginning to run out of reasonable answers to the question of what I have done to deserve this. I read to her. I tell her that I love her 100 times a day. I try to look at the world through her eyes. I am left with this: I think that I may have been Mussolini. Why else would I get a child that acts this way at three? I was fine with the idea that somewhere down the road, in twelve years or so, we might have a fight or two or even that Emily would get that “too cool for this family” thing that I absolutely hate on teenagers, but this is far worse, and far earlier than I imagined.
One of the best parts of this behavior is that it often comes out of nowhere. We will be sitting, reading together quietly, and suddenly, as if another person has entered her body, she will turn to me like Linda Blair and say something like, “Claudia needs to die! I am NOT going to share my toys with her!” Well sure, that makes sense.
While it may be hard to believe while reading this, we do not just sit her in front of cable TV for days at a time. As far as I know, the only exposure to death that she has even had is the discussions about my parents. And yet, there she is throwing proclamations of bloodshed around like a cast member of the Sopranos.
When I try to explain to her that we do NOT want Claudia to die, that we would be heartbroken if that happened she will look at me with a face that makes me think for a minute that maybe she gets it, maybe she realizes what an awful thing it was that she said and say, “I’ll keep her toys to remember her by.”
So, as the days start ticking down to her fourth birthday I am filled with both hope and dread. Surely is has to get better, right? Or are there more, as of yet unimagined, ways that she could torture me?
Oh god, maybe I was Hitler.
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2 comments:
No, you were not Hitler. I have never believed in the terrible twos, although now that Gabriel is hitting the twos I'm beginning to question my theory altogether. If the threes are going to be worse, maybe you want to borrow him for a year and I'll take my chances with 4 yo adorable Emily. :)
George was like that, too, and Charlotte is showing ominous signs of impending three-ness.
I heard that four was better but to be honest it wasn't all that great with George. Five is pretty good so far.
But so far two is my all-time favorite year for both of them. Kind of a bummer if it peaks there.
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