It’s the Opposite of Funny

Wednesday, July 27, 2011

When my son turned one, it was a big deal. He was on this earth a whole 12 months, and so much had changed for the little guy. There was walking and talking and real food with colors and tiny teeth with which to eat it all. And there were new things to see and touch and learn within each of those 365 days. I remember picking out a birthday card with a cuddly-looking panda bear letting the world know one true thing: What Fun To Be One!

Then when QB turned 2, almost immediately, folks thought it was important to “remind” me that the twos were terrible. Thankfully, the panda thought twice about sending out that message … What Poo To Be Two?

Whenever someone would ask if I was ready for these horrendous twos, I would simply nod and smile, maybe toss out an “It’ll be fine.” This was partly because it’s one of those things people just say, like, “Hot enough for ya?” on a sweltering summer’s day. Plus, I’m pretty sure I’ve said something similar to friends or family with 2-year-olds, back when I was a single, not-even-sideways-considering-kids, spring chicken.

The other reason for the smile-and-nod is because somehow I believed — maybe I read it a book when I was preggo —  that the twos would only terrible if I gave that energy to them.

I know. Very crunchy, granola, Earth Mama. But the logic applies to life in general: if you’re busy saying that something — a cocktail party, say — is going to be horrible, all of that negativity might just sink in and the soiree will indeed be dreadful. But, alas, there are cocktail parties and then there’s parenting. Two decidedly different kinds of parties.

The Youngster will turn 30 (months! Or, more simply, 2.5) in about two weeks. So far, truth told, it’s been smooth sailing. The guy eats heartily, sleeps solidly, flip/”reads” books happily, plays with toys quietly, and brings pounds of joy into our lives daily. Really, he’s a good kid.

But over the last two months … he’s shown us another side. There’s the yelling-to-get-my-way trick. The bossy “I’m not wearing that shirt” thing. Oh, and the throwing items that are in no way meant to be thrown bit. All of it normal — just a 2-year-old being two years old. I get it. Really. But, know what? As normal as it is, it’s also kind of … terrible. I don’t know who wrote that chapter in that damn book anyway!

A few days ago, QB was hurling a small framed photograph across the room because … well, because I’m sure it’s fun from his perspective. I told him, unsmiling, that he was not to do it. That he could hurt someone or break something doing that.

“It’s funny,” he says, all giggling and cute.

“It’s not funny,” I say, trying to maintain my serious-business face.

“It’s the opposite of funny,” he says, smiling over at me.

Come on.  Clearly, the deck is stacked. Also … where’s that Panda when you need him?

  • 1
    Kristin says:

    My son was pretty smooth sailing too – wish a few bumps (white-capped waves?) along the way. My daughter started her quest for independence at about 15 months. She is my mini-me, so I know what I have to hide from during the teenage years.

    At 4, my son has been saying, “It’s my life! I get to do what *I* want!” Isn’t that supposed to start around the “Rebel Without a Cause” years? What the heck?!

    • 1.1
      Ms. Mary Mack says:

      Dear me. Is four just a doubled 2?? Is that what you’re telling me, Kirsten?!