There’s a new boss in town, and he’s two foot tall.
The terrible twos are in full throttle.
We have been skirting around them from about 18 months but it became evident we were in full swing when the loft man arrived to give us a quote. The hefty balding man clambered heavily up a creaky ladder into our roof. His leaden stomping in the rafters above Finn’s bedroom prematurely woke Finn up from his afternoon sleep. He yelled. And then, whimpering, demanded I carry him around the house.
He does this sometimes, when he’s woken up in a bad mood. ‘Move, mom, MOVE! Walk there, mom!’ he orders as he grips his legs tightly around my waist.
I really should have listened to that mother at the clinic, who sneeringly warned me about rocking my newborn bundle to sleep. ‘Hmmph,’ she muttered as she stuck her niggling baby to her breast. ‘I made the mistake of rocking my first born to sleep. Never again. You’ll be rocking him to sleep until he’s 18.’
Which wasn’t strictly true. But I do find myself spending more time than I’d like walking my lumpy boy around when he’s feeling out of sorts. Like when there are men in the roof.
But it was only once the loft man was safely sitting at our dining room table tapping out a quote on his laptop for a loft bedroom and en-suite bathroom that the fun really began. I felt Finn’s body tense and his eyes glazed over in a demonic stare as he looked the loft man up and down. He then moved his gaze to the kitchen sink.
‘I want dat,’ Finn suddenly demanded, pointing at a sharp butcher’s knife gleaming in the drying rack.
‘Finn,’ I said sternly. ‘You are not having that. You know you can’t play with that.’
He shot me a furious glance and repeated his order, in a higher pitch and with an unmistakeable whine creeping into his voice.
‘Have this,’ I tried, handing him one of his favourite trucks. He grabbed it and then threw it hard across the kitchen where it slammed into the fridge. The loft man peered up briefly with a raised eyebrow but continued typing.
Finn was now pointing at something else. He was pointing at The Loft Man. I went cold.
And then in his sweetest voice he said, ‘Mommy. What’s the FAT man doing?’
I gulped then coughed loudly. I then quickly whipped Finn out of the kitchen but not before I was sure I caught a gleam of triumph sparkling in Finn’s eye. What’s the fat man doing? Did he have to start using adjectives now?
Later, after the loft man had left, politely avoiding any reference to the incident (although the quote seemed strangely high), I tried to explain to Finn that we didn’t say that people were fat. Even if they were. That it hurt people’s feelings.
Finn simply looked at me blankly, now happily ensconced in a game of truck truck.
It was only a couple of days later when Finn yelled across a coffee shop at the owner,
‘It’s The Bogey Man!’ that I realised he hadn’t quite got the message.
Yip, the terrible twos are here. And they are certainly colourful, if not occasionally embarrassing.What’s the worst toddler moment you’ve experienced? Share in the comment block or mail us at email@example.com