the definition of 2

It all began rather innocuously.

It was a dark and stormy night. Not feeling up to cooking dinner, we decided to stop by one of our favorite restaurants on the way home.

Drew seemed to be in a pleasant mood. When we retrieved him from daycare, he graced us with smiles and hugs. He babbled happily in the backseat. He said "ES, MAMA!" when we asked if he wanted to eat mac-n-cheese at Michael's.

He grinned and waved when we entered the restaurant and told us joyously that we were there to "eat-eat" and he remembered that this was the restaurant that has the butterfly-shaped crackers on the tables. ("laller-fie cackers, mama! laller-fie cacker!")

So we took our seat and handed him the basket of assorted crackers.

And then it all went horribly wrong.

He dug, with increasing frenzy, through the basket. Then, with a puzzled furrow of his brow, looked at us and said, "Whee-ah laller-fie cacker?"

A passing waitress overheard, and uttered the words that would lead to our doom.

"Oh, hun, we're out of the butterfly crackers! We ran out earlier today." And then she sashayed off, blissfully unaware of her role in the ensuing fracas.

"Drew, they're out of butterfly crackers," I said cheerfully. (you'd think I'd know better, right?) "Have one of these round crackers instead."

Suspiciously, Drew took the proffered cracker in his hand, inspected it closely front and back, and then hurled it to the floor.

"No, Mama. No. No dat cacker. Want laller-fie cacker."

"Drew, butterfly crackers are all gone," said Charles. "Eat another kind."

As Drew began to grab anything within reach and chuck it to the floor, we sensed danger, and began attempting to appease him with various shapes and sizes of crackers, as well as with sips of milk, toy cars, crayons and the promise of a zillion-million dollars if he'd just stop crying and let us enjoy dinner together.

But alas, the damage was done. The storm broke with a great caterwaul over our heads and we, scrambling for cover, uttered our final words to the waitress...."We'll be taking our order to-go, please."

And that is what it's like to live with a two-year-old. All that stands between you and sobbing, screaming hysteria is one, small, butterfly cracker.

Comments

[ebeth]

i hate to tell you - but three is WORSE! good news is that four seems to be better.. the tantrums are lesser in frequency, but sadly much more intense.

Parenting - what fun!
:)