Once upon a time, I had two sweet baby boys. Now I have a two year old teenager wannabe and the world’s littlest dictator.
The big one has taken to putting himself to bed at night. It starts with, “No, mommy, I do it myself.” and ends with little feet stomping up the stairs and the sound of the acrobat launching himself into his crib. He’s begun rolling his eyes when asked to do something he considers unappealing. That’s surprisingly annoying and, thankfully, still pretty infrequent. And, interestingly, he routinely calls me Jennifer. Jennifer? Seriously? The bed thing is pretty awesome, but I really wasn’t expecting to be on a first name basis so soon. Certainly not while he’s still in diapers.
On the plus side, he is finally using the potty, if only when prompted. And he’s still wicked cute. And hilariously creative. And super excited about Halloween. And takes the cheesiest photos ever.
Not to be outdone, the new guy has shown himself to be a real bully. He wants what he when he wants it. No negotiating. No concessions. No discussion. Just do it, mamamamama.
Perhaps relatedly, the K-monster is using words such as cat, ca-ca (cracker), uh-huh (yes), ffff (fish), mamamama (mommy), dadada (daddy) and teddy and signs including more, all done, fish, and milk. He understands so much more than he can communicate, so I’m guessing that’s a significant contributing factor to his screaming at me when he wants a cookie.
Some days, it’s like a modern version of Lord of the Flies in our living room. Other days, Leave It to Beaver has nothing on us. We’re living the dream.