Is what I've heard about every 15 seconds during the hour and a half I tried to get Sasha to nap the past two days--screamed, of course, at the top of his lungs. Not that I couldn't tell. I have a video monitor and could hear, and see, him jumping on his bed.
"MOMMY SAID 'GO SEEP'! SASHA NO SEEPING!!!!!"
Ugh. I am glad I took off those two days because they helped me be more aware of my child and what he was like--but Sweet Merciful Heaven--He made me insane with his two-ness.
No meltdowns, no hitting, nothing really bad. He simply wasn't my compliant, sweet little boy. He was the King of Contrary instead.
- I ask him to come to me, instead he'd stand perfectly still.
- If I went to go pick up my little statue, he'd arch his back and make rubber legs so he was impossible to grip.
- If we were in the bathroom he had to touch everything nasty. I'd ask "What does Mommy say?" And he'd say something like "Mommy say 'no touch plunger'" and then look me square in the eye, reach out his little index finger, and say "touch" as he poked it. Arg!!!!!
- At dinner he reached for the knife to tell me it was a knife. I asked, "What does Mommy say?" again. "Mommy say, 'no touch knifes. Knifes is sharp.'" And again, he'd look me in the eye, reach out his little index finger, and say "touch."
- He'd be jumping on the couch, and I'd ask him to stop. He'd stick out his toungue at me and keep jumping. And then tell me, "No, Mommy. Sasha jump on cowsh."
If he'd grown up when I did, people would say he was itchin' for a whooping. If he could get that, he'd thank his lucky stars he was born when he was. Because if he weren't? Oh, his rear would have been shiny.