My little boy, who turns two tomorrow, began the Terrible Twos about a month ago. Oh the joy. Dubz sobs and squirms if he has to stay in the car longer than 30 minutes. He shrieks and stands, trying to escape from the buggy/stroller if he runs out of food during walks. He cries and convulses when I wake him up from his nap early to go pick up his big sister from school. If you are unable to guess his invented baby sign language for which song he wants you to sing, oh God help you. And if you cut up his food or give him a broken cracker, you may as well kill yourself as you don’t deserve to live.
So, how am I dealing with all of this, you may be asking? Am I being tough and showing him who’s the boss? No. Not. At. All. I am catering to his every whim. When he shrieks, I cower. When he demands, I give in. When he cries, my heart melts. Because though he is terrible, he is my baby. And I am not quite ready for him to stop being a baby.
The Pushover

If you enjoyed this, and my other posts, please vote for me in the Fresh Voice category for the Brilliance in Blogging awards (Bibs). Although I am completely honoured to even have been short-listed, I would love to be a finalist. It means that the next time Husband complains that I am spending too much time blogging, I can tell him to stick it. 😉