A little teaser for you here.
What has the ferocity of a lion?
The fury of an exploding volcano…
The catastrophic power of Satan himself…
And afterwards leaves you feeling as though you’ve just survived an earthquake?
The answer is…
My 20 month old son.
We’ve officially hit the tantrum stage. And, as far as stages go, this one’s a doozy. Oh, I remember it well from the first time round. However, what DB2 lacks in pathetic, heart-wrenching wailing (my eldest had that down to a fine art), he makes up for in furious, purple-faced RAGE.
Today’s furious attack was triggered by something that was no doubt incredibly serious in DB2’s life. However, I must confess, I didn’t find it quite so pertinent myself.
If the 30 full minutes of deafening howling, throwing himself around, bellowing, hitting things, throwing things etc was anything to go by, you’d think that the cause would be something fairly major. Something epic.
This was the cause.
A bowl of frosties.
Or, to be more exact here, it was due to the fact that I wouldn’t pour any more frosties into his bowl, as the bowl was already full. I’d already put far more in the bloody bowl than I’d wanted to. I actually really didn’t want him to eat even half a bowl, especially as it was just a snack. However, despite the fact that it was a bowl filled to the brim, DB2 completely went off on one, because I wouldn’t keep pouring them out all over the table.
He then picked up the bowl as though its very presence offended him so deeply that he could no longer bear to gaze upon its ugliness, and tipped it up. Every effing frostie went fluttering merrily to the floor. And DB2’s face said it all. The face clearly said ‘yeah? YEAH, MUMMY? Well, EAT THIS!!’
And then ensued the shrieking, epic, monumentous tantrum.
It leaves you feeling quite battered and worn thin really .Not to mention the fact that you start looking nervously around you, like a fugitive, seeing threat in every shadow. Thinking to yourself, ‘god, what will trigger something off next? Will it be a slightly over-toasted piece of bread that will send him over the edge? A cushion that is not quite the right softness? A wall that happens to be in a place that DB2 suddenly decides he doesn’t like? ARGH!!!’
Living on the edge…!