For a short time, I was beginning to think that Aaron had magically skipped the stage known as "the Terrible Twos" (or as my mother, an expert in early childhood development, calls it, "the Terrific Twos." Is that supposed to be sarcastic, Mom?). Around his second birthday, he was a delightfully easy-going child, communicating with him was a breeze, and I was patting myself on the back for being Super Mom. And then age 2 1/2 came along, and flattened us like a steamroller.
We were suddenly drop-kicked into the frightening, mind-boggling world of the Toddler Stage. Suddenly, he had a roller coaster of emotions in any given moment. He demanded, he protested, he threw tantrums. It was a maddening experiencing to bounce back and forth from adorable sweet kid to Capital C Crazy child.
One morning my son asked for some string cheese for breakfast. First of all, I'm not sure why he thought string cheese would make a good early morning meal, but that's apparently how a two-year-old's mind works. I tore open the plastic wrapper of the string cheese, and handed it to Aaron.
He suddenly went berserk. He stomped his feet, made a scrunched-up angry face, and cried, "Aaron peel!"
I responded, "Oh, sorry, I already peeled it."
"Aaron peel! Aaron peel!" He threw himself onto the kitchen floor, and kicked his legs wildly into the air.
I tried to reason with him (as if rationale and logic are ever effective with toddlers). "Okay, well you can peel your string cheese next time. This one is already open, so just go ahead and eat it." He continued to scream and cry, and I was certain that our neighbors thought I was butchering a live pig. I enthusiastically suggested that we "fix" the wrapper, "Here, let's pinch it back together and you can pretend to peel it." I attempted to ignore his meltdown.
"Aaron peeeeeeeel!" His face was now red and blotchy. My ears hurt from the shrill banshee shrieks, and I was beginning to wonder where this writhing alien was teleported from. Was it really only 7:30 in the morning?
We were at a parent-child stand-off, with only one person destined to be the victor. After several moments of considering all my options, I finally gave in. I simply didn't have the energy to take my child to the emergency room if he threw himself into the nearby refrigerator. "Okay, fine, Mommy will get you a new unpeeled string cheese. I'll eat the opened one." That's what parents get to eat for their meals - food that their kid rejected. I gave him a brand-spanking-new string cheese.
For several minutes, our home was quiet and peaceful. Aaron worked at his string cheese, trying to open the wrapper. His chubby toddler fingers, however, made this task a losing battle. After a moment of struggling, he turned to me, "Mommy help." "You want me to help you open it?" I asked. He nodded. I looked at him intently, "Are you sure you want my help?" Again, he nodded yes. So I took String Cheese Number 2, and peel it open.
Aaron started screaming hysterically, and hurls his body onto the ground again. "AARON PEEL!" AARON PEEL!"
I stared at my son, reminded myself that it would probably be wrong to throw string cheese at a child's face, and dug really deep down for some maternal love to get me through another day.
We were suddenly drop-kicked into the frightening, mind-boggling world of the Toddler Stage. Suddenly, he had a roller coaster of emotions in any given moment. He demanded, he protested, he threw tantrums. It was a maddening experiencing to bounce back and forth from adorable sweet kid to Capital C Crazy child.
One morning my son asked for some string cheese for breakfast. First of all, I'm not sure why he thought string cheese would make a good early morning meal, but that's apparently how a two-year-old's mind works. I tore open the plastic wrapper of the string cheese, and handed it to Aaron.
He suddenly went berserk. He stomped his feet, made a scrunched-up angry face, and cried, "Aaron peel!"
I responded, "Oh, sorry, I already peeled it."
"Aaron peel! Aaron peel!" He threw himself onto the kitchen floor, and kicked his legs wildly into the air.
I tried to reason with him (as if rationale and logic are ever effective with toddlers). "Okay, well you can peel your string cheese next time. This one is already open, so just go ahead and eat it." He continued to scream and cry, and I was certain that our neighbors thought I was butchering a live pig. I enthusiastically suggested that we "fix" the wrapper, "Here, let's pinch it back together and you can pretend to peel it." I attempted to ignore his meltdown.
"Aaron peeeeeeeel!" His face was now red and blotchy. My ears hurt from the shrill banshee shrieks, and I was beginning to wonder where this writhing alien was teleported from. Was it really only 7:30 in the morning?
We were at a parent-child stand-off, with only one person destined to be the victor. After several moments of considering all my options, I finally gave in. I simply didn't have the energy to take my child to the emergency room if he threw himself into the nearby refrigerator. "Okay, fine, Mommy will get you a new unpeeled string cheese. I'll eat the opened one." That's what parents get to eat for their meals - food that their kid rejected. I gave him a brand-spanking-new string cheese.
For several minutes, our home was quiet and peaceful. Aaron worked at his string cheese, trying to open the wrapper. His chubby toddler fingers, however, made this task a losing battle. After a moment of struggling, he turned to me, "Mommy help." "You want me to help you open it?" I asked. He nodded. I looked at him intently, "Are you sure you want my help?" Again, he nodded yes. So I took String Cheese Number 2, and peel it open.
Aaron started screaming hysterically, and hurls his body onto the ground again. "AARON PEEL!" AARON PEEL!"
I stared at my son, reminded myself that it would probably be wrong to throw string cheese at a child's face, and dug really deep down for some maternal love to get me through another day.
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