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They say that the age of 2 is terrible. I'm thinking that the age of 34 isn't so hot either, but I am beginning to see the reasoning behind the terribleness of two and it really isn't the two-year old's fault. Will is currently 20 months old and is trying with all of his mighty might to talk to us. There is a great deal of pressure and he tries really really hard -- talking, toilet training--understanding that you sit on it, not put your hands in it... Your toys, the Bluedog's toys, only put the fake keys in your mouth. If I had to do and not do all of these things I'd be stressed out and frustrated too.... which seems to lead to melt-downs and breaking things (much like someone else I know).
Last week - - upon being told not to play with the propane for our outdoor grill, he turned and broke a flower pot -- threw it to the ground with massive angst... I said "No!" and knelt down to pick up the pieces while he turned and threw 3 more pots--shattering on the patio... he laughed.
This morning he was so tired... didn't want to wake up, but I made him get out of bed.. Growing is exhausting, you know. Yawning we went into the kitchen, I opened the pantry for the cereal and turned my back to reach for his bowl when --- CRASH, down came the Oreos that were haphazardly placed on a Will-can-reach-shelf... "No!" I rushed to pick up the cookies, only to spin around to see him half-way through his second helping. I know it was his second because of there is no way one cookie generated all the cocoa yumminess now on his face and hands... he laughed -- and this time, I laughed right with him.