Someone once said that whoever made up the phrase “the terrible twos” had a kid who hadn’t turned three yet. This is absolutely true. The days of epic tantrums are upon us and by us I mean my husband and I, because according to Future President’s babysitters (his grandmothers), he doesn’t act like this when they watch him. Apparently his tantrums are reserved for his parents.
Because you are three, you will be thrown into waves of emotional despair by:
The short prayer, instead of the long prayer, before nap time.
That Daddy walked past the sidewalk onto the road during a walk.
That Mommy did not sing all of the verses to Amazing Grace.
That the slice of cheese was cut, as usual.
That Mommy had her shoes on.
That the wheel could not be removed from the John Deere tractor.
That the jacket made you too hot despite the cold.
That the broken straw wouldn’t work.
That the sandals kept falling off when you kicked your feet.
That the cup of juice wasn’t full enough.
That Mommy’s finger covered part of a picture during story time.
I am hoping this is really just a short stage of life and Future President will have grown out of it by the time baby arrives. Although I’ve been told in hushed tones by knowing parents that older siblings sometimes regress after a baby is born. And so I will swallow some patience pills and hope for the best.