Tantrums and tears and grazed knees. Oh my!

I’ll start by saying that I love being a mum.  I love The Toddler more than anyone or anything else in the world.  Nothing even comes close; but he drives me crazy!  Everyone warns of the ‘Terrible Twos’. Well, that’s an understatement if ever I heard one.     
                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                       -As I write this, I am nursing toddler-related injuries.  Grazed knees and elbows as well as severely bruised pride.  It all started innocently enough as a quick trip to the local shop.  The Toddler, as per usual, was refusing to go in his pushchair so was walking.  All the way to the shop, and surprisingly in the shop he was as good as gold.  He said ‘please’ and ‘thank you’; held my hand tight and walked in a more-or-less straight line.  On the way home, I relaxed.  That ‘s a fatal error right there.  He decided he was bored with walking forwards and was going to walk backwards.  No real harm done, just really slow.  Then he grew tired of that also, and decided that sitting down and playing with stones was a much better option.  I coaxed him back onto his feet, I’m ashamed to say that bribery was used.  This sitting-down and being bribed back to his feet carried on for a while, until he took a particular liking to a fence post.  I tried prising his fingers from the wooden post, he is freakishly stronger than I am (or I am freakishly weak). As I pulled, he let go, inevitably leading to me falling flat on my back.  Was my humiliation over?  Nope.  The Toddler, seeing his chance, ran towards the road; I lurched after him, grabbing his ankles and ending up flat on my stomach.  In the middle of the path.  The Toddle, little darling that he is, giggled repeating ‘Mummy, tumble’ over and over whilst sitting on my back.  Red faced, (from anger and embarassment) I struggled to my feet and carried him home, vowing never to let him out of the house without a pushchair ’til he’s at least thirty.

I wish I could say that this was a one time occurence, but tantrums take up much of my day.  As do the words ‘Lewis, no’ and ‘Stop it’. I’m told it gets worse as they get older.  I can’t wait!

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