We've got a two-year-old on our hands here. Adam is the sweetest, most easy-going little fellow I've ever met. He puts up with constant bossing around by his older sister and frequent requests to "wait just a minute" while I take care of his younger sister. He takes it all in stride and doesn't put up much of a fuss, until... he does put up a fuss. A HUGE fuss. A fuss to be reckoned with. The blow-ups are usually centered around time-sensitive activities- getting carseat buckles on, putting shoes on, getting ready for bed- and always have to do with the desire to "do it myself."
The other day Adam had threaded himself through the backside of a little chair. He was stuck and crying, so I helped him out. Oh, the injustice! What was I thinking?! He screamed in his tiny two year old way at me and then got himself re-stuck in the chair just so he could get himself out again.
The worst blow-up I've dealt with so far happened as he was trying to help me carry heavy sacks of food into the back of our car. He couldn't lift them himself, but didn't want my help, so we were stuck in the middle of a parking lot. A stalemate. He was kicking and screaming and crying. I felt like kicking and screaming and crying. Somehow we got home in one piece and the day got better after a good long nap.
I don't know that I necessarily want to remember these dark pockets of life with a two-year-old, but I do know that 10 years ago I wouldn't have had the patience or the love or even the know-how to put up with such a horrendous display. But as I've mentioned here before, motherhood is forcing me to become the kind of person that I want to be. The person that looks past the streaming tears and the sobbing and sees a frustrated little boy that just can't accept the limitations of his sweet little body. And I love him. And I put my arms around him when I can and I tell him it's okay. And that we can work through the seemingly overwhelming task of putting a shirt on together, no matter how long it might take. And I am truly happy to do it, because I love him. And a little voice in the back of my mind just shrugs and says, "Oh that's right. He's two. But he won't be two forever."
I love the moment when suddenly (or finally), the tantrum is over and he's my happy boy again. He asks for clarification, then cheers about everything. "Morningtime is here? Yay! Morningtime is here!" or "I get a piece of candy? Yay! I get a piece of candy!" or "My sun came up again? Yay! My sun came up again!"
Adam is truly, truly a delight. The two-year-old business is temporary, and we can deal with it. It's a small price to pay for the privileged of having him in our family.
