On the day that Leo was born, gazing lovingly into his beautiful eyes I didn’t imagine that two years later I would be pleading with him to stop shoving string cheese into them.
“NO LEO! Cheese does not go in your eye! You eat it!”
“No,” replies Leo, continuing to shove the string cheese into his eye socket and laughing at me.
“Eat it like this, yum yum yum,” I eat imaginary string cheese and smile.
And so goes much of my day… Another parent of a two-year old and I were talking recently and wondering; when can we reason with them??? It seems like everything I say goes in one ear, and then is completely disregarded, without e even bothering to go out the other ear. I am pretty sure that there are probably about a million books on this topic, but I am too tired to read them as I have spent my all of my energy trying to explain to my child that a cookie-based diet is not suitable for a growing boy.
Here is a typical day:
He doesn’t want to wear clothes. “Leo look! Everyone else is wearing clothes!” Leo continues to run around at full-speed buck naked as I chase him with clothes.
He wants me to build him an animal out of play doh but then gets really upset when he crushes said animal. “Leo, don’t smash the kitty if you still want to play with it.” Leo hands me the smashed kitty which I reconstruct and he smashes it again.
He wants to put his toy giraffe in his little basketball hoop but gets frustrated when it gets stuck in the net, after removing the giraffe about 100 times I suggest, “Why don’t we try the basketball in the hoop?” Fat chance.
He wants hummus for lunch, then he gets upset when I give him hummus. “For the love of god please just eat the hummus!!!” Leo eats a cookie. Hummus goes in the trash can with uneaten toast and smashed banana from breakfast.
He wants to walk our dog around the house on a leash for hours, I am afraid that the dog might snap so I take him off the leash. “The dog is tired and needs to rest, let’s go color!” MELTDOWN.
I guess this is one of the myriad of reasons that it’s called the terrible twos. Or maybe he just only speaks Chinese or perhaps French and can’t understand me… I know that someday, and it might not be until his mid-thirties, logic will prevail.