It's been a tough few weeks around here. Having lived his Terrible Twos to their fullest, Willem has been the embodiment of the Truculent Threes. He has a million tricks up his sleeve, each one optimally designed to get our goat.
He even gave up his newly potty-trained ways for a few days. That just about did me in.
It has just been classic power-struggle, learning to be independent stuff. (And I know he's really well-behaved in the big scheme of things.) But the fact that such behavior is normal doesn't make it any less wearing.
"I'M NOT THE BOSS!" he would yell. "MOMMY AND DADDY ARE THE BOSS!" And then he would attempt to bully us all into submission to his every whim.
Thus it was for the first time in my life that I was thankful when Willem got the pukes. All of us but Shaun got really sick (and in this case Shaun drew the short straw, because he had to clean up after the kids.) I felt terrible physically, but it was the first time in two weeks I'd had a break from THE ATTITUDE. Because Willem was too sick to spend any energy on being naughty. He was too sick to be anything but sweet. What a relief.
After a week of being home sick with two sick kids, my relief yielded to boredom, which quickly progressed to exasperation. And then it was not Willem but I who was just so crabby.
I really think that the past few weeks have been the last gasp of concentrated rebellion before Willem moves on to his next developmental stage. (Not that I think we've seen the last of it, but maybe we're going to take a breather for a while.) That's what I'm telling myself, anyway. Because I'm not sure I could handle that level of intensity for too much longer.
I'm being crabby.
Nice try, Empathetic Mom.
Ignoring me won't work either.
If looks could kill, you would be SO DEAD right now.