I have a two year old.
Now for everyone that has, had, or lives with, or lived with a two year old I’ve already said enough. Anything else will be just details. The words ‘I have a two year old’ will bring knowing nods from those who have been there and done that.
I however am new at it, and I am still processing what it means. My son just turned two, and he wasted little time becoming a ‘terrible two’. I saw signs of it coming for months. Little fits when I would say no, stubbornly refusing to come when asked, and so on. Recently it has gotten worse.
Last night I was almost at my wits end. He and I locked horns four times in such a short time period. At supper I couldn’t get him to eat, on the potty I couldn’t get him to go, in the bath he refused to let me wash his legs. By the time we got to brushing his teeth and he was fighting me on that I was getting mad.
Were I not committed to avoiding corporal punishment I would have spanked him.
Finally our forth battle ended. It ended in another stalemate, his teeth were brushed more than he wanted but less than I wanted, we got his PJ’s on, and picked out a book. He sat on my lap and we read a story. He said thank you, gave me a big kiss and a tackle hug than I got him into bed.
I said goodnight to him, and all his teddies and he went to sleep.
After an hour or more of battling there was love.
Having a two year old really reinforced for me lessons about power and control. I really have little of either. Sure I could be a bully and make my son feel small and broken. If I did that I’m sure he’d eat his supper, play where I told him, and his legs and teeth would sparkle. But than I wouldn’t get BIG kisses, and tackle hugs. I wouldn’t get to be his buddy and playmate, and superhero and all the other fun stuff a dad gets to be to his son.
So I guess I will grin and bear it. If that means from time to time he only eats his cranberry sauce for supper so be it.