Jekyll and Hyde

October 6, 2011

good morning! happy walking baby

Remember like a whole entire month ago when the Jude turned two and people kept saying, "oooOOOoh, terrible twos!" and I would laugh in their face because this! child! is! delightful! A HA. HA. HA. WHO'S LAUGHING NOW. Probably them.

It's not that he isn't delightful, because he is so, so delectably deliciously delightful, it's just that sandwiched between moments of pure candy cane goodness is a lot of screaming, loud loud screaming about things that don't make any sense. Two is the Jekyll and Hyde of ages, on the one side we have a charming inquisitive gentleman and on the other waits a raging drug addict that hates logic.

The dichotomy is no big revelation. After all, that crazy growing brain energy has to be released somehow. The trouble is finding the correct mix of ingredients to initiate the transformation from one to the other. Add one part playing outside to one part snack with a dash of slide and– wait too much slide! and! Shit. 'Splodes in your face. I hope you were wearing your safety googles. I never wear mine because they mess up my hair that I don't brush and that would be completely unacceptable.

For the most part Jon and I have been taking the drama in stride. We've been doing this long enough to recognize that when things get, well, like this, it means something big is coming. Change peeking over the horizon. We've been weathering the storm with patient, gentle suggestions and rolling eyes. That doesn't mean I don't occasionally shout, "FOR THE LOVE! GET YOUR SHIT TOGETHER, MAN." at the heights of turmoil but you know, we all do what we need to do to survive until the storm passes. (PS it works GREAT. No, seriously.)

In the mean time there's a lot of, "I! DON'T! LIKE YOU! ...GO 'WAY MAMA" happening in my face when things are looking Hydely. What can I say, the Jude has older friends and a fiery genetic legacy to live up to. It's never going to be breaking news that my child can dish out the sass. This is, however, the one down side to your kid's friends being three and four. Oh yes, they're verbal. And dangerously smart. But they act... three and four. And SIXTEEN.

I still like two, all two of them. I don't care what you say. Or he says.
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