I had forgotten how fun this was . . .

My sweet, adorable, agreeable baby boy has been replaced with an angry, defiant, LOUD, giggling little turd.

Ah yes, the terrible twos have arrived. We're at that oh-so-tender part of childhood where everything is drama and even the seemingly simplest of tasks turns into an ordeal reminiscent of the Bay of Pigs.

Right at this moment, transitioning seems to be the big issue, among others. Getting ready to leave, getting in the car, getting buckled into carseats, none of that has occurred without some altercation of some sort. Likewise for coming back home. It's just all drama.

This is a familiar place. Katie had difficulty with transitioining at this age. I recall how I longed for days ahead when just getting somewhere wouldn't be so physically and emotionally exhausting. We finally got there with her, but it took awhile. A LONG, long while.

Today the kids really needed to blow off some steam. It's been really cold and windy the last few days, so we have not been able to get outside at all. It was quite chilly today, but the wind had diminished, so I took them to this little playground near the house just to burn off some energy. They had a ball and from their wild, wide-eyed expressions, they really needed it. We were there about a half an hour when it started to rain/sleet/drizzle, and Mama had to pee really, really bad. So, unfortunately we had to go.

SMACKDOWN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Jonathan was NOT happy that I was disrupting his outside time. I thought perhaps I could outsmart him by taking Katie to the car first and getting her buckled in, and then he would follow. Apparently he's clue to my little game and he just stood there in the middle of the playground and cried, not the usual "you're a meanie" sniffle, this was an "I'm pissed off, dammit!" full out, no holds barred wail. I said "Come on, Jon, it's time to go, let's get in the car!" And he totally snubbed me. He then turned around and ran towards the back of the playground. Unfortunately, at the back of the playground is a fence with a very large opening, and just beyond that fence is a parking lot to a very busy supermarket. I sprinted to him and he ran faster. I finally caught up with him, picked him up and he laughed and giggled, the same damn devlish laugh that his father does when he's especially pleased with himself for annoying the living shit out of me.

I finally get him in the car, and I damn near had to physically pin him down to get him buckled into his carseat. And he carried on. And on. And on. Katie, who by the way is the recipient of the 2004 World Tantrum Cup, commented how she could not understand why he was so angry, and said his screaming "made her ears loud." I took the opportunity to remind her that she did the same thing at that age, to which she looked at me like I had just told the biggest lie evah and was going straight to hell for it!

Sigh. Looks like I'll be having to dust off my old copy of John Rosemond's Making the Terrible Twos Terrific and study up on the exhausting yet adorable enigma that is the two year old.