The Terrible Twos

I love my little girl, that much should be obvious. It is true and she is the best thing that has ever happened to me, making me smile each and every day as I see the little girl she has grown into. She’s perhaps the most caring child I’ve seen and is as polite as a 2-year-old can be. she's full of laughs, cuddles and kisses, and she almost always seems to know when me or her mum is upset or ill. This all being said, spending time with her can also be as trying as it gets.

I know this is not the case to the letter, but the moment she turned two it seemed like a switch was flicked. Sure, she’s been irritable, temperamental and grouchy at times throughout her short time alive, but, almost to the day, everything has increased tenfold (alright I'm exaggerating, slightly). The Terrible Twos have hit full force; she has more violent tantrums than ever before, for which she even has her own corner. There, she’ll scream, shout, cry and stamp her feet as we watch on. At this I can’t help but laugh, earning myself a scowl of disapproval from the Mrs.

The paddies are bad enough and can come at any time. Whether we’ve given her the dreaded answer “no”, whether we’ve taken a household object off her that she shouldn’t have, whether we’ve put the wrong song on the television or whether we’ve moved one of her toys from where she’d put them, we will almost certainly incur her wrath. Although this is by no means the extent of our difficulties (if I can call them difficulties). As she develops, so does her creativity, which in turn increases the likelihood of an outburst. Perhaps her biggest interest is to pour water from one cup to another, leading to several puddles around the house.

Getting her to sleep, and keeping her in that state, is worse than it ever has been. She has a catalogue of nursery rhymes in her head and she uses bedtime to demonstrate this (complete with actions and different tones), while roll-playing has become a regular feature. Exhaustion results in fidgeting and she covers every corner in the bed in her fight of all fights to stay awake, shrieking as I try to ignore her. Bedtime very rarely takes less than an hour and has been known to take over two; after-which I’m usually in a frazzled heap, shaking at the bottom of the bed (Ok, it’s not quite that bad, but I certainly find myself to be a little less sane!).

Outbursts of rage, a growing stubbornness and a want to try new, sometimes messy, sometimes dangerous things have all coincided with my little girl turning two. She challenges me each and every day, but I don't think I'd have her any other way.