The terrible two's have arrived. And they didn't arrive softly in the night like presents from Santa Claus or a few bucks from the Tooth Fairy. They came crashing in like a tidal wave. Like a burning inferno caused by a meteor crashing into earth. Like Brain Bailey storming into the newsroom when the Cowboys lose.
Ok – maybe that's too dramatic. Plain and simple – my sweet, loving little son is acting anything but.
Exhibit A. My family and I recently went out to dinner. MISTAKE. Let me set the stage for you…reservations are at 6:00. At 6:45, we still were not seated. In fact, we were still standing in the waiting area…because there are no seats. Probably not the best place to take kids – but we wanted to have a nice family night and I wasn't in the mood to shell out $10/hour for a babysitter.
I had that child. The one who screams instead of talks…cries incessantly for no reason…the one who gets his body as stiff as an ironing board when I try to pick him up. When I finally did pick him off, he suddenly turned into Mike Tyson and thought I was his sparring partner. What calmed him was the ONE thing the American Academy of Pediatrics discourages…TV. Yep. I took out my phone…pulled up Youtube and found Baby Einstein. Because nothing calms my son more than your everyday kind of toys moving around a screen to the sounds of Bach & Mozart. (A billion-dollar idea by the way).
So, as he sat there with his eyes glued to the video, he shoveled pasta into his mouth. I tried to make eye-contact with everyone around me and offer the "I am so sorry I ruined your meal" face. And my well-behaved daughter, in her best Charlie Brown voiced, sighed "Oh brother."
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