Aidan was never a "terrible" two year old. For him, he was most challenging from about 14-20 months. Back then, all he wanted to do was GO! GO! GO! and, with limited vocabulary, he was often described as a completely irrational little devil by his otherwise doting and loving parents - who, really, were just trying to keep him safe before he got himself killed or further maimed. Did I mention we had THREE trips to the ER during that time for stitches on his face? Enough said.
After that, his vocabulary picked up and he turned into an even-spirited, cooperative child who was really a joy to be around. I waited with baited breath for the "terrible twos" to begin, but they never came. Instead, I found myself raising a well spoken, miniature human who was easily reasoned with and generally happy to please. As I take my rosey-colored glasses off, I admit he wasn't "always" an angel...but for the most part, we sailed threw the past year - and I loved it. Best yet, I was aware that I was loving it.
And then he turned 3.
And, dear God, deliver me from this argumentative, pouty, if I ain't happy, then ain't nobody happy attitude. Who does he think he is? A teenager? Sorry buddy, but you need another decade on your shoulders to earn the right to torment me thus. I don't know what I need to do to get through to him, but I just hope he realizes that agreeableness will get him so much further than pitching fits before...before...before...oh, who am I kidding? I love my little man.
I just wish he'd stop fighting me at seemingly every turn. I know I'll look back on this time with a smile, but in the meantime, I need to find a new behavior modifier that works. I feel awfully silly arguing with a three year old.
More patience wouldn't be amiss, either. Yeah, lots of that, please.
And finally, as it is August, I give you our yearly Laundry Basket photo.
August 2011
