...they're the horrific, exhausting, I can't go into a store without throwing a gigantic fit, won't sleep at night, gotta have my way, my mother is going to pull all her hair out...two's.
Good thing I'm cute.
Today we went into three different stores. Abbi threw three gigantic fits, one in each store. While putting my screaming child into the car a very sweet, well-intended elderly lady tried to give me some advice on how to change her behavior. All be it sweet, it went in one ear and out the other. Besides, who puts their not-even-two-year-old into school? I'm pretty sure they call that daycare. No thank you.
I'm in uncharted territory here folks. Numero Uno never went through this phase. I love my dear wee one. She is funny and smart and lovable and this stage, besides the terrible stuff, is a favorite of mine. But I am at a loss on how to deal with the crummy stuff. I've never had the sensation to throw my child...until now. (wow, that makes me sound horrible! And I never, ever would! Just trying to be honest.) That's when I leave the room and let DuVall take over.
Any advice will be well received...unless you catch me at a bad time in a parking lot.