I was told that children can be complete angels until the DAY of their second birthday, then all hell will break loose.

And indeed, today was the day that Callum turned two.

It was possibly the 3rd worse day I’ve ever had as a parent.
Thank goodness I was in a good mood. (See previous post.)

Callum screamed, shouted, cried, moaned, whinged and grumbled about EVERY. SINGLE. THING. It was unbelievable.

He asks for a biscuit. I give one to him. He refuses to take it.
I put it back into the jar. He whinges and asks for it again.
I give it to him. He refuses to take it. Etc. I end up eating it. And he screams and cries. It was the same with the orange juice. The fork. The jigsaw puzzle. The lego. The tissue.

Then I’m trying to take off his pants. He wants to do it himself. He screams because he can’t do it. He refuses to stand up so I can do it. Etc. Then he screams because he wants the blue socks not the orange socks. He insists on putting them on by himself. Screams because he can’t do it. Then refuses to wear any socks at all. Argh. It went on all day.

It was painful to be around him. Excruciating. Complete torture. He was just so unreasonable. Unpleasant. Irrational. Impatient. Unappreciative. And so goddamn… childish.

By the time my husband came home, things got even worse. He refused to eat his dinner. Played up in the bath. And screamed when it was bedtime. He eventually wore himself out and collapsed into bed by 11pm.

Bleh. I couldn’t believe how patient, indifferent and level-headed I was to the whole drama. I just scoffed, rolled my eyes and said, “Yep. Whatever. Get over it kid.” On a bad day, I would’ve been emotionally shattered, reduced to tears, swearing that I’d never have any more kids and plotting the next flight interstate. But like I said, thank goodness I was in a good mood.

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