The Riot Act Edition

You know when you have friends who are parents that warn you about certain things? If you haven't given birth, your friends feel the need to share with you how much of a painful, yet joyful experience it was. You cross your legs because you can't get your brain past the pain part of the story.

If you have friends with children older than yours and they tell you about the perils of teething, potty training or sleep deprivation. Like it's their job to inform you.

This is my part of that vicious cycle. As Elton John once sang, it's the circle of life.

I've never liked the term terrible 2's. Although I use it, I don't like it. To me it implies there is something terrible about my child. As a mother and as a woman, I cannot even being to endorse that. What it should be called is the Age of Intwopendence. Yes, I said intwopendence. Which is extremely witty.

Zoe is already displaying it. On Sunday N walked ahead of us to take her stroller into the house. Not to mention nature was calling. Too much information? I speak only truth.

Apparently that type of urge is unacceptable to a 16 month old. For the entire length of the yard, she pointed her finger and told her daddy just how she felt. I have no idea what she said, but I knew I didn't want to be on the receiving end of that gibberish tongue-lashing.

Then it happened.

Last night she was playing in her crib. This is a favorite activity. She runs circles in her crib, plays with her stuffed animals and sings along to her mobile. It's endearing. Plus it keeps her in one spot while I take a break from chasing her around. She hasn't caught on yet!

Grandma took her stuffed lamb and puppy and put it between the crib and the wall. See, not only is this a time of running laps, but also slight, stuffed animal cruetly. Don't tell PETA, Stuffed Animal Division.

Zoe thought I took them. I began to realize how it felt to be on the receiving end of her anger. She would bend at the waist, her hands in fists, reading me the riot act. All the while Lamby and Puppy (we're very creative with names) were smiling down on her from their vice-like prison.

I can only imagine what these tyraids will be like when she has real words. It could be like Mommy Dearest but in reverse. I promise I'll stop using those wire hangers now.

On a side note, I'm a little miffed myself. At my high school career counselor. Miss Janny. She did not clearly demostrate the "summers off" benefit people in the teaching industry enjoy. If she had, I may have given that career path some serious consideration. Instead I sit in a windowless office studying for a designation. I'm in adult summer school.