So anyone new to the whole parenting malarkey has probably had what I call, the fear, put in them over the concept of their child turning two.
But right now you’re probably cradling your little wrinkled up bundle of sick and poop with a sort of, unwavering denial that your child will never become an arsehole… ha!
For me, having a younger sister who really did seem to be the devil incarnate meant that I knew all too well that children grew up having their own ideas of what they wanted and when that didn’t go the way they had planned, all hell broke loose! I spent the majority of my childhood sleeping with my eyes open, completely convinced that one day, my little angelic sister would eat me alive (and trust me, once, she almost did!).
Because I was also a child myself then, my perception of time was completely off and I had always assumed that that would have been the “terrible two’s” phase for her, after all, at 20 years old, she is completely pleasant these days! So naturally, when I was pregnant with Jack I dreaded him getting to that stage of his life.
By the way – you hear how parents cry with pride when their child reaches each milestone? Well, I cried too but I cried for a very different reason! And I am now convinced – parents don’t cry with pride when their children can now walk and talk and climb etc., they cry with a fear that only a parent can understand!
My son became an arsehole soon after turning one (terrible two’s my arse!) – it was the first time I saw him like his dad and unfortunately the resemblance is only intensifying as he is getting older…
Jack has always been fiercely independent, the day he was born he could lift his head off of my chest and wave it around a bit – for a wee 5 pound baby, it was rather impressive but I knew then we had our work cut out for us. His love for being independent has only got more and more. For example, he won’t hold hands when out and about and he won’t eat anything he doesn’t want to (which is more or less everything but carbonara, beans and chocolate). He’s not shy of telling me to “go away” or his daddy to “Get!” and he’s also been caught the occasional time kicking our dogs out the way or chasing them up and down the hall with his sword.
As you can see, a proper little shit-head.
Just the other night, we decided to go one step further than his “naughty step” and put him straight to his cot. If ever there was a noise I would hear that would resemble the Exorcism amplified 100 times, this would be it. Jack had finally reached complete possession phase. The terrible two’s just got badder if that’s even possible! He was screeching in a way that resembled that freaky kid in The Shining. For the first time, I was actually afraid of my son.
So – terrible two’s is actually, terrible whatever age they decide they want to terrorise you.
Don’t get me wrong, Jack is the sweetest little arsehole in my life, ever and I love him.