Some almighty wobblers have been thrown in this house of late. There have been arm flailing, foot stomping, back arching, fist shaking, lie on the floor, scream, shout and cry trantrums issuing forth from that angelic (looking) little boy.
For all his gorgeousness I sometimes wonder if there isn't something just a little bit hellish living inside him. I was rather proud of myself for teaching him to sign to me that he was "all done" with his dinner, or a particular game - until last Tuesday - when he spent the entire day waving his arms in front of him everytime I got within three feet - "I'm all done with you Mummy!"
He has taken to swiping things off of bedside tables in a bid of frustration, throwing remote controls, hairbrushes and toys and getting stoppy if we don't get him a banana fast enough.
This morning I had the audacity to try and take his sleeping bag off as he made a break for the edge of our bed - the tantrum that ensued was so violent that only Buble could calm him down. We googled in despair. Apparently it's quite common - the "terrible twos" it seems are a bit of a misnomer - they don't necessarily start at two, nor do they cease on the morning of their third birthday. I'm hoping that we're just getting it all out of the way early.
Trying to reason with a one year old is nigh on impossible, distraction rarely seems to work and cuddles make him worse. Daddy it seems is flavour of the month - Mummy is akin to ear wax. I've tried all sorts to regain his affection only to be met with a palm in the face - "talk to the hand Mummy". Mr Jones has recommended practicing general disdain mixed with a tiny smidge of contempt - maybe the small boy is like a cat and is irresistibly drawn to people who'd really rather be doing something else. We'll see - I hope I get my cuddles back soon.
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