You're two, almost three. It's a tough age. For both of us. Lately I've
been asking myself why you are such a dick so much of the time. Is
it because you have a new sister who you have to share us with? Is
it just "the age"? Or is it me? Do I expect too much from you? Am I
too strict and need to chill out?
But today I had a bit of a realization about this boundary testing
you are doing, this quest for control that you have undertaken.
Took me long enough, but here it is.
Sam, my darling boy. My sweet, funny, bright,
two-almost-three-year-old . . .
The rules will always be the same. You are never allowed to bite
your sister's nose or run over the cat with your bike. You must
share your toys with your friends if you expect them to share with
you. Hitting me will always gain you a time out. If you throw
things, they will be taken away for the rest of the day. You must
say please and thank you.
Your routine will always be stable. We never watch TV before
breakfast. There will be meals and snacks at regular, predictable
times, and for-the-love-of-my-sanity we always have
quiet time after lunch so please stop telling me you don't
want to!! You will wash your hands after using the
toilet. You will use soap. Before bed you have a bath, brush your
teeth and we read books together . . . after which I expect you to
actually GO TO BED. Tomorrow we will do it all again.
The answers to certain questions will always be the same, so -
omg - you can stop asking!!! Yes, that is Lucy. No, you may
not jump on the bed while she is laying there. Yes, I'm making you
french toast. No, the coffee table is not a Sam table so please get
down off of it. No, you may not play with the nail clippers. Because
you could cut yourself. No, no, no. Because, because, because.
Yes, that is wine in my glass. No, you can't
But most importantly, Sam, I will always love you. No matter how
often you throw your toys or don't share. No matter how many
time-outs I give. No matter how impatient I get with your repetitive
questions or whining refusal to cooperate. No matter how strict I
may seem, or how high I set the bar for you.
No matter how many babies I have after you.
I will ALWAYS love you more than you can imagine.
And I know that you are just experimenting to discover which boundaries
of your universe are absolute and which can be bent to your will. I get
that. So I will try to be more patient, more understanding, more
enthusiastic. I will try to remember that everything is a big deal to
you, even if it is terribly mundane to me. And I will take a deep breath
before losing my cool and practice saying yes more often than no.
When I'm having difficulty enjoying your company, I'll try to add to this list:
I love watching your little brain work when you're trying to figure
I love the expression on your face when I've given you an answer
that you know is not true. Don't worry, it's just sarcasm. You'll become very familiar with it.
I love your belly laugh.
I love when you come cuddle with me in the morning after dad leaves
I love how you kiss your little sister goodnight.
You're a cool little dude, Sam. I like hanging out with you and watching the person you are growing into.