Posted by: Anna | July 21, 2009

Terrible 23 months

I do not quite understand the concept of the “Terrible Two’s.” Let me just say that at 23 months, Joey dramatically changed last week. Since he was under the weather, Joey stayed with grandma. I have been meaning to take Joey for a haircut, but kept putting it off since he cries so loud. I hate when kids cry loud. I mean when they take a deep breath then release it with a loud scream and clenching their arms.

So when I get home last week to greet my little one, he was sitting on his buggy ready for a walk, with a brand new military buzz and full on attitude. He didn’t run into my arms, he just sat there, all attitude pointing to the street. Could it be possible that along with all the hair cut off, the happiest child I have ever met went with it? I mean, Joey is still happy. But, Geezz, is this the “Terrible Two” stage. Then I hear that sometimes they get worse! Oh my God…sometimes I just want to become invisible. He is A-T-T-I-T-U-D-E.

Now, you have to understand that I myself am kind of attitude, let’s just say. Joey has two parents that are smart and strong willed. Then we have Joey. Wow. I remember throwing these ridiculous tantrums so that my mom would give me what I wanted. I remember at three we were at a swap meet in California, and I wanted pop corn. Pop corn! Of course, my mom refused. And I went on to scream, rant, kick my legs, yelling at the top of my lungs saying how hungry I was. I was hungry and she wouldn’t feed me!

Sorry mom. That was an embarrassing moment. Then there is another time when mom and I were out having breakfast with grandpa. Now, my grandfather was old school. I think I might have been his favorite, but at age four, ummm, let’s just say he wasn’t too fond of the idea of my tantrums. We were eating at this restaurant in East LA. I remember it actually. The server brings my mom her plate and hands her an extra plate so she can share with me. You know, the type of stuff I do with Joey.  Well, let’s just say I wasn’t too fond of the idea. I was four, really long black hair, in a pretty dress eating out with grandpa. I didn’t care I stood up and refused the ‘extra plate’. I cried demanding my own plate. “Mine!” I should be the one with the big plate of food! Not just you mom! My grandpa is whispering to her, “Now if I were you, I would take her into the bathroom and give her a good one!”

Those were the days…now on Sunday while having breakfast. Joey and I visited the bathroom while eating out. Let’s just say I could have given him a good one. Only he was already in full tantrum mode, kicking and screaming for no apparent reason! Why do they do these things! I have heard what goes around, comes around. I believe it. But Geez, Joey is worse than I was!

Maybe it’s because at Joe’s mother once told me, “When Joe was little he was an angel. The quietest little boy. Then he turned two and became the devil!”

Geez, I hope not. Joey is not two just yet. Please dear Lord let that last sentence not be true for Joey!

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