It’s a well-known parenting maxim: watch out for those terrible twos. The prediction is that the sweet toddler you love will become a screaming, demanding terror that will turn you into a blubbering fool. Even the phrase “terrible twos” sounds like a neon light that appears over your child’s head the second they blow out two candles on their birthday cake.
It’s a myth. Don’t believe it. The terrible twos just don’t exist.
When Nate turned two, I braced myself and thought, “We’re in for it.” We already knew he was a high energy child and well, that’s what we’d heard. But nothing really happened. Sure, he changed some. He talked more and was mad frequently. There was no drastic change, though. I thought I was a great parent. We had it made—he was simply an easy child.
I now laugh at my own naivete. Let me say this for any parents or parents-to-be who consider the twos rough: it is not true. It’s just not fair to set others up like that. Because the threes, well, stink.
This year hasn’t been all bad. Nate’s great fun to play air guitar with and it’s a blast going for a walk. But I found myself unprepared for the three-ness. The pointless questions are unending, the volatile moods unpredictable, and the angry pronouncements unnerving. “I don’t love you anymore, Mommy!” he will scream as he runs away to hide in the pantry.
I didn’t think I’d have a teenager in the house for another decade.
Just today, Nate was in the middle of a grumpy afternoon while we ran a couple of errands before coming home to set up the Christmas tree. He was mad at Daniel and me, the cars, his aunts in Texas, and the sun (seriously). I turned around to try again to distract him, and suddenly, he was happy again. “I not grumpy, Mommy. I happy.” I was pleasantly surprised. Happy Nate was back!
A minute later, though, it was, “I don’t like Daddy.” Oy.
A better parent would remind herself that this is just a phase and with love and gentle direction, it will pass quickly. Sometimes, I’m that parent. But frankly, I’m often not that person. This year very well may just leave me a sobbing fool. Today may be a mess, but it always ends, and sometimes, tomorrow is a good day. Today, Nate may be mad at me, but tomorrow might be one of those mornings where he happily plays and tells me that he loves me while covering my face with kisses.
We’ll make it.