more on the terrible twos

Greg discovered a gray hair over the weekend, at the ripe old age of 28. It probably wasn't the most sensitive thing I could have done to burst out laughing and giggle, "You're old! You're soooooo ooooooold!!" I don't know whether we should blame it on the PhD or the kids, but in my mind the most likely culprit is a blonde little whirling dervish we call Evan.

I know I write about the terrible twos a lot -- it's hard not to when they are the bane of my existence. By now, the frantic crying and temper tantrums have gone on so long that they're pretty easily ignored most of the time (which tends to make us look like horrible, neglectful parents when other people are around). That doesn't mean that they're not annoying, or that we don't want to pull our hair out when he cries for orange juice and then screams because we give him some, but we've just kind of given up on the tantrums. Okay, kid, cry on the floor for ten minutes, have fun!

Lately we're dealing with the sort of toddler behavior that requires constant supervision, which of course is a lot of fun. Things like pulling all the DVD cases off of their shelves and then pulling the DVDs out of their cases. Or pushing a chair into the kitchen to climb up onto the counter and dump powdered sugar everywhere. Or knocking every book off the shelf in his quest to find the one he wants. Or grabbing anything within reach off of the kitchen counter.

Sure, he's been doing these sorts of things with minor variations for the last year or so, but I think it's important to record this stuff so that when he's a teenager, throwing tantrums about how horrible I am, I can show him this blog and tell him it's all payback for the toddler years.

We're going to my sister's wedding this weekend, and I'm not a religious person, but I am praying to avoid any kind of tantrums, at least during the ceremony. I don't expect he'll be able to make it through the reception without screaming, or pulling on a tablecloth and bringing everything crashing to the floor, or tearing open my sister's gifts, or biting his brother, or freaking out about some terrible thing we try to make him do like sit in a high chair to eat something. Or something. There will be something. But please God, let's make it through the ceremony with no mishaps or injuries. That's all I ask.