Didsburydad's Blog

From the not so mean streets of M20, blog about being a dad, Didsbury and dealing with parental confusion

Archive for the tag “terrible twos”

Wordy Rappinghood – why it matters

Words I love and hate.

I was in a queue at a supermarket last week. Let’s not name names, let’s call it Smooths at MediaCityYouK. There was a nice woman standing behind me with two small children. The little one, who looked about thee was getting fractious so I did a little gooning about and we all made friends. The man behind the checkout joined in, uninvited. Apparently he too had a “Threenager”. I stopped. The woman looked slightly embarrassed as we wondered whether to
A) ignore the naffness and move on
B) stab him with the kabanos I held in my hand.
C) go to Morissons across the road.
Threenager? Threenager! Threef#^*ingnager. Threenager is right down there with Terrible Twos, 4 year old girls wearing t-shirts that proclaim “Porn Star” on the front, Keep Calm and Carry on Zumba and shops proclaiming themselves “Krazee” or offering “Kutz”.
This is dangerous territory. Not only is our language too beautiful to throw away like this (you repeat Red Lorry Yellow Lorry after a night on the Calpol and tell me I’m wrong), but we continue to create this theme park expectation.
Didsbury Son is 13. He is still the lovely boy he has always been, but he has chemical surges that are part of the often awkward growing trajectory. We all had/have days as teenagers when the world is against all goes wrong. There are times when we both glare, glower and wonder at each other’s stupidity. The moments may be difficult but they are natural and it is the expectation to behave like a grown toddler that is a self-fulfilling prophesy. I know some lovely teenagers. I know some for whom my best intentions fall well below humanity. They are not like that just because they are teens. 
What are the terrible twos? At 2 the world is a huge playground/fridge that revolves only around you. You are the stars, the moon, the sun and heir (the temptation to go into Smiths lyrics here is almost unbearable) to a oneness that is overwhelming. Between the daily dose of kisses, hugs and moments of joy is/are your child(ren)’s introduction to negotiation. If you have not had to witness UKIP’s abysmal rise, never chewed your nails through the last month of a Premier League season, lost a person close to you or been dumped then of course whether or not you get a biscuit is worthy of tears. 
So the twos are not terrible. They stretch your joints, your patience and your ability to watch the same programme over and over BUT… They only last 52 weeks and I have a feeling that I will miss the babbling, utter adoration and openness that typify this year. 
So there is my ten pence worth. Cliches and Platitudes are not described that way as a compliment; however tiring or frustrating a teenage/toddler tantrum is they are part of the furniture and once they are through this the opportunities to eat fish fingers and buy plastic tat are gone forever and that is testing. 

Don’t believe the myths about two year olds.

 

 A two-year old considers their next kick-off

 I like to think I can be as slovenly and lazy as the next man. One doesn’t always need a tissue for a nose blow and if there’s an easy fob off for the children I say, “Spare the iPad spoil the lie-in.”

Childminders are vital to your toddlers development and I heartily recommend Dora, Peppa and Shaun 0’Sheep who bring so much for a small outlay.
However, there is a response more predictable, lazy and pointless than the people who stared at the twins in their pram as babies and droned “double trouble…” This is “The terrible twos”.
In this house alone we also have the awkward early teens, the slightly stiff and not as flexible 39 XXLs and two cats that don’t like each other.
The twos are not terrible. They are challenging as is each stage. The boddlers can talk (a lot), plead, laugh (a lot), cry (a lot) and it’s all at an utterly instinctive level. Their complete lack of notions such as danger and volume control make negotiating a thought provoking issue. The Mighty-Headed Boy is becoming wonderfully eccentric – a biscuit refusal sees the bottom lip come out like a wobbling drip tray. However, he also has a sense of humour and a mimicked lip out usually brings laughter as the biscuit outrage is forgotten. 
The “terrible” twos are peppered with moments when my Pearly Girl grips me and says “Love You Daddy”, this is the winning the league good on a daily basis and all I have to do is keep the bananas peeled and the Amazon Prime subscription. 
So. There are only 52 weeks of them being 2 years old. We are nearly halfway through. They have already moved out of high chairs and into conversations, out of mush and into shared dinners. 
The therapeutic threes lie around the bend and potty training looms. I’m off to my virtual shed. 

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