If you are all about your image as a parent, put your
children up for adoption when they approach their second birthday. They
don’t call ‘em the terrible twos for nothing.
Suddenly your darling, sweet baby decides he has a mind of his own. He learns how to scowl, finds the scissors
and cuts his hair, and his favorite word is, “no.” The next year is filled with tantrums and embarrassing
scenes in the grocery store, at church, and anywhere else you go.
One thing I will say for two-year-olds, they are supremely
indifferent to their image, and yours. I
remember Hermione sitting on my lap at a piano recital and wetting her
pants. Thanks Hermione. Orville had the longest terrible twos in the
history of the world. Orville was
opposed to leaving any place we went.
For a while, it seemed entirely possible that I would be hauling him to
the car, kicking and screaming, until he turned eighteen.
Two-year-olds have their pet peeves. Petunia, miffed about the birth of Prudence, decided
to bite her. She also expressed herself
artistically by drawing a six foot mural on the walls of my parents’ home. Petunia said it was an alligator. Prudence severely annoyed about the birth of
the twins, took scissors to a Quaker lace table cloth my mother had given me.
Prudence, as well as Petunia, had an artistic streak, but
Prudence liked scissors instead of crayons.
She cut her hair more than once in a place that could not be fixed with
a new haircut. (You see, Prudence, your
children come by their fascination with scissors honestly.) Eglantine, took a passive aggressive
tack. She put crayons in a load of my underwear
in the dryer. And as we wheeled the
shopping cart through the grocery store, she called to every man she saw, “Hi,
Daddy!” It sounds darling, I know, but
it was extremely embarrassing.
Two year olds like to do things for themselves. They insist on doing things they are much too
young to do like: tying their shoes, cutting up their own meat, and driving the
car (Yes, Petunia. I mean you.) If you tie your two-year old's shoes, he melts
down. If you leave him to tie his own
shoes, he melts down when he finds out he can’t do it. Either way, you are in for a melt-down.
Two year old girls love to dress themselves, when they decide
to wear clothes, that is. More often
than not, their garment of choice is a bathing suit, a leotard, or their
birthday suit. When two year girls opt
for clothes, they love to dress themselves in a new outfit every fifteen
minutes all day long. Naturally, a two
year old is much too young to fold clothes and put them away. At the end of the day, the room looks like a
hurricane hit, and you have to wade through a pile of cast off clothes trying
to determine what should go in the wash and what should go in the drawer. In the pile of clothes, you will usually find
a half-eaten, moldy apple they clandestinely maneuvered out of the kitchen and
under their bed.
When they dress themselves, two year old girls exhibit unique fashion sense. I will never forget two-year old Hermione
choosing to wear a size 8 dress belonging to her sister for a grocery shopping
expedition to County Market . The dress,
six sizes too big, reached the floor. But Hermione fashioned a long necklace around her
waist. After four kids, I just didn’t have time to mess around with what every
child wanted to wear, so I let her wear it. Naturally, we ran into one of my long lost cousins at the store. Then,
there was the time Hermione decided to wear a pink crown and a huge, pink necklace
to the doctor. Fortunately, the doctor also
had children.
Two year old boys often decide changing clothes is a waste
of time. They pick an outfit and decide
to wear it for the rest of their lives.
And when you make them change clothes, you guessed it, a tantrum ensues.
Yes, Orville, you.
From two-year-olds, I learned that tantrums aren’t the end
of the world. I learned that every
parent goes through terrible twos (some kids have terrible threes instead) and empathizes.
I learned to let unimportant things slide and enforce what was important,
regardless of others’ opinions. I learned that tantrums weren't my fault, and to sit tight and ride the wave. I
decided that the opinion of a childless person, regarding my struggles with a
two year old in the candy aisle of the grocery store, was as meaningless to me
as my opinion on diesel engines is to a mechanic. I also realized
God made two-year-olds so priceless and adorable so we could get through the
terrible twos.
