The terrible twos are upon us.
When Monkey was two, she was an....oddly logical creature. A Vulcan, if you will. You would stop a temper tantrum by giving her a reason - any logical reason - for the offending behavior. And she would stop her tantrum, adjust herself mentally with a shrug, and say OK. Done. Now, she still had some pretty f-reaking spectacular tantrums (there's one in my memory, of demanding multiple cookies, with echoing shrieks and screams of displeasure echoing across Columbia's campus....), but still - she was oddly logical and collected for an insane two year old. Three? Phew. Three was hard. But two? Two rocked.
Jellybean? I am thinking she is going to do the terrible twos up right. Tantrums. Time outs. Fisticuffs and shenanigans. After all, she already broke my nose.
But this is the weird part. She LIKES timeouts. In fact, she gives them to herself. Happily!
We're screwed.
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