Big Man was considering the “Terrible Twos” recently, thinking about how his second birthday is still five months off, when he had a toddler epiphany: why wait? There’s no law that says you have to wait until two to be terrible. Besides with all the good work he already has under his belt: making mincemeat out of Daddy’s CD collection, destroying all his brothers’ best LEGO creations, becoming a master artist in the medium of ripped books and papers, he’s already got a meatier resume in terrible than most authentic two-year-olds.
I must reluctantly agree. Big Man has outgrown the level of destruction, chaos, and all-around mess-making expected of a one-year-old. It’s difficult for parents to see their kids grow up so quickly, but to attempt to hold him back from the terrible twos would be an injustice to his nature.
There’s lots of fun to be had in the terrible twos, unless you happen to be one of the unfortunate people who is not two, and also not terrible. In that case, you might not see all the fun in it. You may not be able to picture the fun through all the mopping up and taping back together you find yourself doing. But everybody has their role to play; that’s the beauty of the system.
I don’t want to say Big Man is a naughty boy; I want to use euphemisms like “active” and my favorite, “busy.” Big Man is indeed a “busy” little boy. He is very busy being naughty. But it’s all in good fun. He doesn’t have a malicious bone in his body. It’s just that his idea of good fun means somebody has to clean it up or glue it back together, or just throw it away and realize that God didn’t mean for him to have nice things.
Big Man is very curious as to how things work, and most often you’ve got to take it apart to see how it works. I’m convinced he needs to know how every single thing in our house works, now that he knows the secret to figuring it out. Child safety latches mean nothing to him. Wait, I take that back. Safety latches mean there is a rewarding treasure of dangerous things to discover behind this cabinet door – possibly things that can be plugged in.
In fairness, I must say that Big Man revels in being helpful. He will bring you your shoes, regardless of whether you intend going out. He is so eager to give you your shoes that he sometimes flings them at you from across the room. If a shoe happens to clip your head, that’s a helpful reminder that you should always keep an eye out for your shoes after you decide to go out – and sometimes before you decide. Also, it is not the most painful thing likely to hit your head today, so just count your blessing and put on your shoes.
And my blessing always include Big Man.
Yikes! That one seems like a handful! Lol. Gman is into the terrible 4’s, which is a continuation of the terrible 0’s 1’s 2’s and 3’s, so have fun with that! He’s more of a mental destroyer. Not sure which is worse.
A handful is right. He ‘deconstructs’ everything. But he does it with a smile on his face and giggle in his heart. How can you get angry with that?
Well I guess you can’t. Unless he breaks your electronics. Draw a line there my friend.
He’s already pulled some letters off the laptop keyboard. My iPad is the last refuge.
If only we adults could do some shoe flinging from time to time.
Go ahead. I won’t tell.
Can I said I had the proper permission?
You can say anything you like, as far as I know.
And use your name? 😉
Do whatever you’ve got to do to get that shoe airborne.
Yes sir! On it sir!
I once found my 10-month-old taking apart a baby gate. Good luck!
Good for him! Baby gates are more trouble than they’re worth.
Incredible, the amount of damage you have to deal with… I’d lose it.
But, yeah, the giggling fun…
. . . is what it’s all about.
The first two kids ramped me up for this kind of damage.
You do have your hands full I see, but it’s got me wondering……..he had to get this predisposition for naughtiness from somewhere……who can we look at for that……hmmmmmm……..
Genetics can be tricky, but I understand his mother was a difficult child.
In order for one to know how to be pleasant, it’s only natural to experiment with being terrible. Oh sure, they allow you to vote in every election for the rest of your life—after your 18. Or, you can drink alcohol whenever you want—after you 21. But, when it comes to being terrible, they only let you do it once—at age two! I say live it up Big Man, live it up!
There’s a long time until he can vote or drink, so he’s got nothing else to do except be terrible.
And thank god he’s not going to turn it into a profession, Scott!
Hopefully, he’ll find something that pays better.
Yes, the rehabilitation process should begin promptly at the start of his third birthday. That way mom and dad’s early retirement can begin even sooner.
Early Retirement! Now that’s funny!
my kids threw me for a loop. See, I was expecting the terrible twos… and then they never came…until they hit 3. The joke was on us. We thought we dodged a bullet (the first time) and were surprised. The second time, we prepared…but there was no preparing for the child that would hold their breath until they passed out. (good times)
They will always find a way to make up for lost time. You are never out of the woods.
They wait until you least expect it, and then spring it on ya!
They play to their natures.
Hey, by the way, when you put me down for my nap, I’m going to poop…then undo my diaper, explore the poop and finger paint my bedroom… surprise…I didn’t sleep.
You sure do have a lot of pans. If only they were plans instead of pans.
We had friends, I’m using past tense for obvious reasons, who used to pop in unexpectedly with their very busy boy, infiltrating our sanctuary in a time when we didn’t have kids. Therefore we were unaware that all kids are busy at one point or the other.
Now what made this specific visit dreadful was the fact the the kid had a toy, if “toy” can be defined as a piece of lead tied to a string so a little boy can swing it around his head, narrowly missing a TV screen, window, vase and porcelain doll.
Some of those pans are older than I am. None of my plans are that old.
Yeah, my kids all love their pieces of lead tied to strings, too. You can’t beat a classic toy like that.
Classic toy, Ancient weapon…same thing
Best of both worlds.
We were very nervous hosts during that visit.
Imagine how your guests felt: it’s one thing to have to pay to replace your own valuables, but paying to replace somebody else’s just sucks.
Oh heavens!!! Thank goodness my cats don’t know how to open child safety latches. Bless you and your wife for I cannot even begin to imagine the energy required to keep up with this child of yours. Hmmmmmm …. You know the saying, “Paybacks are a *itch?” What were YOU like as a child? Or for that matter, your wife? Could it be you are experiencing what you are due to what YOU put your parents through? Just sayin’… Perhaps Lessons of Understanding on your part are in the making? I sigh in relief that I don’t have it this bad. I just have to watch out for fur balls on the rug when I walk in bare feet to the bathroom at night. And oh yes, I have walked in many. LOL Great post as usual, Scott!!! ❤
I have no doubt that in some cosmic sense I deserve all of this. I don’t know if my wife deserves it, but she’s stuck with it now. The kid hasn’t coughed up any fur balls yet, so I take comfort in that. Thank you for providing me that perspective.
Laughing so hard here, Scott! Oh wow I am laughing so hard!
I guess your kids are just advanced!
I’m gonna go with that.