Wednesday, August 22, 2012

It's a Good Thing He's Cute

I do believe we are entering the kingdom of the Terrible Twos...  I'm not entirely certain what Monkey's daddy did with my super sweet, loving little Mama's boy over the weekend, but the child who was returned to me on Sunday is clearly not the same one who left last Thursday!  He is most definitely an imposter in Monkey's body.

It started on Sunday night when I told Monkey that it was time to get his "night night" diaper on.  My little creature of habit who normally runs straight for the changing table took off in the opposite direction yelling "NO! NO! NO!"  I was stunned.  Did he really just do that?!?  I followed him, and the little snot took off running in the opposite direction again shouting, "NO! NO! NO!"

Oh, no you didn't, Little Man!  You don't tell Mama "no."  I'm not your foster mama any more, Mister.  I can paddle your little behind if I need to!

I managed to corral him and carried him kicking and screaming to the changing table.  I have to admit, my recent Emergency Behavior Intervention and Restraint Training class came in rather handy as I tried to wrestle the Screaming Sumo Wrestling Octopus with Superhuman Strength.  I'm glad the child is no longer in CPS care so I could avoid the mandatory paperwork for necessary restraint.  Fortunately, his attitude improved and we were incident-free the rest of the night.

Monday was fairly uneventful.  I had taken the day off work, so we headed over to my sister's house for a playdate with the Mini Munchkins.  Monkey spent the majority of the morning trying to avoid Butterfly as she chased him around the house planting kisses on him.  He made the fatal error of indulging her one time, and paid the price for the next hour and a half.  For the most part, we had very few outbursts or fits from any of the toddlers, and Monkey was on his best behavior.  Then we went home...  Monkey did not want to be home.  He wanted to go "bye."  And he spent a good 20 minutes trying to get out the back door.

Tuesday rolled around, and my mom got to be the lucky recipient of Monkey's full-fledged bipolar baby meltdowns for the morning.  I walked in the door at lunch and she immediately told me "I'm calling in 'sick' tomorrow.  Your child is possessed.  I want a raise."  This coming from the mouth of the woman who has always told me that she feels guilty for taking money for watching him because he's so insanely easy!  She grabbed her purse, hightailed it out the front door, and left me to fend for myself with The Ranting One.

Man O' Mercy, Monkey was in rare form, indeed!  Smiling and playing one second...  Screaming at the top of his lungs and chunking his toys across the room the next...  He then decided that he wanted a second popsicle after lunch, and when I told him "no," WWIII began.  He stood in front of the refrigerator, banging on the door, screaming "POP-POP!!!  GRRRRRRRRR!!!  POP-POP!!!  AAAAAHHHHHH!!!"  I ended up doing The Great Staredown (the only thing that works occasionally) and even got the whole thing on video for future blackmail.

By the time Monkey's daddy showed up to take him home for the afternoon, I was fully embracing the whole "co-parenting" thing.  I warned him, "Monkey is IN A MOOD!"  Although I don't think the warning was very necessary.  Monkey took one look at his dad and ran into the other room like a wild man screaming "NOOOO!!!"  Monkey's dad looked like a dear in the headlights.  I sighed, and told him "I'll be right back" and I set out to retrieve The Screaming One.

"NOOO!!!  NOOO!!  NOOO!!!"

"Don't you tell Mama 'No,' young man!  Daddy's waiting for you.  Time to go!"

I scooped him up and carried him back to the living room as he writhed and kicked and screamed.

"You have fun with that," I exclaimed as I practically threw the little snot into his daddy's arms and shoved them out the front door.  Yep.  It was definitely one of those "Co-Parenting ROCKS" days as I sat in my now silent house and giggled to myself thinking about the super-fun time that I'm sure Monkey's daddy was about to have for the rest of the afternoon.  :-)

I really do hope this Reign of Terror phase doesn't last too long.  I think God really knew what he was doing when he chose to make children go psycho around this age as opposed to later down the road.  At least toddlers can be cute.  I can guarantee this would be an entirely different post if a teenager tried to pull these stunts.  As it is, I have found myself chanting the mantra "it's a good thing he's cute" over and over again in an attempt to keep from throttling the little booger.  At least he's smart enough to know when to flash a smile my way to remind me!  :-)

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Mandy said...

Laughing over this one! It's like reading my life... every. single. day.

Acceptance with Joy said...

I have one foster child like that!!!! Sigh. I'm so tired. He's 18 months....

Jenny said...

Love this one! Sounds very familiar... And I hate to tell you that my daughter 26 months and we still have these days!

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