I remember when someone first mentioned the terrible two’s,
I was like, what? Ellie was at the time just turning two and still easy-going.
They say there are two golden periods for kids: a year (sleeping through the
night generally) until eighteen months (before the terrible two’s), and six
years (post-terrible two’s, which really should be terrible three’s and
sometimes four’s) until nine years (pre-puberty).
Well, Ellie’s first golden period lasted longer than usual.
When the terrible two’s hit eventually, I was like, oh, I see. When they hit
with Eric, I was like OH I SEE. Elijah’s in the thick of it now—he’s
two-and-a-half—and I’m reminded again what it’s all about.
In a way, it’s sort of comical. The terrible two’s are
saying no to literally everything (“no! don’t want to!”). It’s wanting to climb
into the van and get buckled on his own (“ja-ja do it!”) even though he can’t
actually do it and takes forever trying (“come on, Elijah!” the others are always saying. “Ja-ja slow,” he replies).
It’s always having a vocal preference (“want that one!” “don’t have poop!”).
It’s getting overly emotional over minor perturbances (“shirt wet!” “blankie
not right!”). It’s displaying touchy possessiveness (“mine!” “got it first!”)
and being sensitive to exclusion (“wait for me!”). It’s tending towards
exclamation points or wails, towards demand or distress.
At heart, I think it’s him desiring independence, but not
being able to actualize that most of the time, leading to a need for verbal
assertion and frequent frustration. I think of this time as a little preview of
the teen years. It’s saying a last goodbye to the spirit of infancy: I’m glad
at least that he still has slightly chubby thighs and a protuberant tummy. It’s
the emergency of a new self, and in that sense a window into all the things we basically
desire as a person: having a sense of achievement and purpose, feeling included
and special. Just, you know, in super-unfiltered fashion. That’s how kids are,
though. Unfiltered little pieces of humanity, running around in all their loud-talking,
messily exuberant glory.
That’s what I’ve got, four little pieces of glory running
around here this week while Dave’s gone. If I see things that way, can see the
strange sort of irony in a still-infant-like boy making loud demands, it helps
traverse these stages of transition with humor and equanimity. And that
certainly helps a lot.
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