Grant and I are in the process of writing our wills and it's a good thing we are. Because I don't know if I'm going to survive the toddler years with my son.
The Terrible Twos might be the death of me. In the very least it will drive me to drink. More.
I a.d.o.r.e. our son. I think he is the coolest kid I have ever known or will know. He is wicked smart, dang funny and full of LIFE. And impossibly cute, to boot. But there is a reason why God made toddlers cute. It's a defense mechanism for them. Kinda like the puffer fish.
Now, if only God made teenagers cute....
But I digress.
The whining, the crying, the tantrums! And that's just ME! ;)
I won't go into the details because he is doing normal toddler stuff: testing his limits, pushing our buttons and generally being a pain in the ass. Ha. Our daycare provider (a.k.a. Saint Sharon) tells us she does a lot of deep breathing techniques when Miles throws one of his fits. She says it has gotten worse lately, but assures us that it will get better. Oh, I hope she is right. Otherwise we are going to get booted out of yet another daycare. *sigh*
It will pass, as all things do. Everything with kids is a phase. He will get over it, and so will I.
And in the meantime I get through it with patience and deep breathing.
[more about vodka in tomorrow's post]