The terrible two's have officially arrived. I actually thought they were here a few months ago, and looking back I LAUGH at how ignorant I was. How can I possibly battle this hard with such a tiny person? Every meal is an ordeal. Foods he used to love? Now he acts like I'm poisoning him. Naps? I'm torturing him. And don't even get me started on computers/cell phones/remotes. They are ALL for his person convenience and entertainment. Remind me to tell the story about him ripping a dozen keys off of my keyboard. Plus side - I now have the marketable skill of reassembling a Sony Vaio laptop key hinge, which is nothing to sneeze at I might add. But I digress. As I watch him grow and develop into this little person with such a strong sense of will, I have a hard time recognizing him. Where did that quiet, laid back little boy go? Well, he is still quiet except for the screaming. I guess the one plus to all of this is that he is not talking yet.
I do find it so charming and sweet that the one thing, besides his blanket, that gives him comfort and transfixes him for hours is a book called
This Is The House That Jack Built by Simms Taback. Apparently the story has been around for hundreds of years in various forms. He loves that every page has his name on it. That boy LOVES his name. Thank God I didn't name him something weird like Maurice or Ferb, because as far as I know there are no
This Is The House That Ferb and Maurice Built books. He sleeps with this book - that is how seriously he loves it. Stuffed animals he can take or leave. But he cuddles with a book. I told Michael the other day, "you do realize he is smarter than both of us, and we are in big trouble?" Oh yes, yes we are. And I wouldn't have it any other way.
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