Then he turned three.
My agreeable two-year-old has been replaced by Mr. Bossy Pants. He has definite opinions about the way things should be, and is unwilling to compromise. Most of the time, I feel like I am negotiating with a terrorist -- simple tasks like getting out of bed in the morning, eating his breakfast, turning off the TV, and taking a bath have become a practice in disaster prevention. I hate that I'm allowing him to dictate my actions, but I'm constantly diffusing ticking time bombs. Don't get me wrong: Daniel is still a great kid. He smiles a lot, has an awesome sense of humor, and loves to cuddle. But he drives me crazy sometimes.
I find myself saying things like, "If you get dressed now, you'll get downstairs in time to watch Abby's Flying Fairy School" and "You can have a pack of gummies if you eat three more bites of dinner!" It's completely ridiculous and lazy parenting on my part. And it doesn't always work! Daniel has me wrapped around his finger, and he knows it.
Though I may sound naive, I never thought that Daniel would become one of those kids who cries at the drop of a hat when he doesn't get what he wants. He still doesn't throw full-blown temper tantrums (which is a blessing, especially in public) but he screams with anger if you do something he doesn't like. Peter and I joke that Daniel has worse PMS than a pre-menopausal woman. I can't help but think of that old poem:
There was a little girl
Who had a little curl
Right in the middle of her forehead.
And when she was good
She was very, very good
But when she was bad, she was horrid.
Substitute boy for girl, and you've hit the nail right on the head. I want my two-year-old back!
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