My 2 Year Old is Officially 2

My sweet two year old. Pre last week.

In the past, when I've seen toddlers throwing tantrums, I would say inner sympathies for the parents, smile to myself and continue on my way. I've counted myself so blessed to have an angelic child. A child who doesn't know how to use his voice box for such awfulness. A child who wouldn't dream of being so defiant as to throw himself on the floor in a way that one would think demons had taken over his small body. A child who willingly sits in the grocery cart and sings "I've got the joy joy in my heart" as we do our shopping.

And then last week happened. Without warning. It happened. Our angel threw a tantrum. I've been excited to share with him all of his "firsts," but this one definitely bucked that trend. I looked at him as if smoke were about to exit his ears and fire out his mouth. Then I looked at Tim as if he had cure to bring the horrendous screaming to an end. He didn't. Then another thing happened. He started refusing help from anyone unless he fears for his life. "Wylan do it. Wylan's turn. Wylan see it." You want help buddy? "No way" (followed by a swat of the hand). Well, okay then!

Luckily, the weekend passed without any further anger at the world, but I'm waiting for the next tantrum to strike. I'm told by every human who has an interaction with a child over two years of age that this will now be a part of my life. My better half is able to find the humor in this new reality. After I cried over the fear that my sweet little boy was forever a thing of the past, I was able to put this all in perspective. We all have ugliness right? After all, I still throw tantrums. They just rear their ugly heads in ways other than screaming out loud the physical kicking and flailing of arms. Tim can attest to that. Well, maybe you all can.