Life is funny, but life's hilarious with kids to share it with. I am tempted to fill my truck up with gas, load up my little back seat driver, and follow the directions he yells out. Turner has a good sense of direction. He knows what turns lead us to the gym, which store is Walmart, and where the library is. Every car ride is spent with him pointing out land marks or yelling "No not that way Mama!" I should give in and see where we'd end up.
Today we had a few errands to run so me and my little helper struck out to town. I had told him we'd go to Albertson's and pick up mom's medicine. He started talking about "Hibisters". I could not figure out what he was saying, but what ever it was was serious. We are at the pharmacy counter and he points in the direction of the lobster tank and asks if the "Hibisters" are back. On our last trek into Albertson's Turner's beloved lobster tank was empty. I told him they would probably be there next time and thought nothing more of it.
Well, low and behold there is not a hibister one in the tank. We ask the butcher when there will be more but he lets us know not til tomorrow. This is no conciliation for a two year old intent on seeing the hibisters. Turner wailed all the way to the car, he continued to sob the whole way home. Once the truck was pulled into the garage his cries got louder. He now was not only sad about the lobster shortage, but was determined to stay in the truck forever in protest. It's all of twenty-five degrees today, so he had to get out of the truck even if not under his own power. I peel him out of his seat and deposit him on the floor in the door way. I take a split second to take off my coat and hang it up. That slick little sucker had sprung up, and with cat like reflexes was clawing his way back into the damn truck!
I grab him and get him out once more but this time I keep my hands on him. I strip his coat off-not what he wanted me to do apparently. He cried and screamed while I got our bags out. I walked right past him and up the stairs to the kitchen. Turner knows that Mommy is mean and will not come get him when he's pitching a fit. So he came almost all the way up the stairs, after all what good is a temper tantrum with out an audience to watch it? My poor little guy pitched and wailed, screamed and kicked, yelling the whole time about "Hibisters" and "my coat" for about twenty minutes. This whole time I busy myself in the kitchen. I unload groceries, I clean up the breakfast dishes, I get a head start on chopping my vegetables for tonight's supper. I never look at Turner, I will not give him attention while he throws a fit. He starts winding down. Good, I figure he'll get up and go play. It gets really quiet so I chance a look. My baby's passed out on the stairs, snoring away. His head is on the top stair, his body the next, and his feet dangle off the third. It is the sweetest display. So of course I take pictures, then a short video, and end it by snapping a pic with my cell to send to anyone who has a camera phone.
Turner's really a toddler. He wore himself out and fell asleep in the middle of it. I scooped him up and brought him to bed. He never made a peep. I pulled off his shoes and pants, put a pull up on him and shut the door. It must be hard to be so little and so unable to control the world around you. Part of the tantrum comes from the fact that I heard him talking this morning at quarter to five. He never went back to sleep either. I was up, but just sat and listened to him. I walked by his door to smell for poop, but there wasn't any so I lay back down and waited on Brad's alarm. We all got up together. I think Turner was excited to see Papa.
Last night we taught Turner how to play Hide-n-Seek. He counted to ten and we all took turns hiding, even Turner. He was so full of joy, but bed time came. So the first words out of his mouth this morning? "You go hide!". I feel for him, when I'm excited I can't sleep either.
I know we'll have a lot more days like today. When excitement over a new thing learned leads to lack of sleep, then the inevitable tantrum. But none of it was bad. I actually wasn't bothered by it today. He was as sweet as an angle sleeping on the stairs. I knew he was tired, but I also knew that this was a part of him growing up. The terrible two's aren't all that terrible all the time. With the emotional crying fits and battles of will come all the new accomplishments. When he counts to ten or sings his alphabet I am over joyed. When he makes the connection between concept and concrete I am amazed. He's my Little Monster and I wouldn't trade him for anything in all the world.
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