At nearly three, Jones has just started to act like they tell me two year olds do: TERRIBLY. Up to now, he'd have his moments, but they were few and far between. For the last ten days or so, though, those "moments" have been more than norm than not.
And read my lips: IT'S MAKING ME CRAZY.
Today, we got home from the store, and I got Freddie out of his carseat. Before I unbuckled Jones, he said, "Ah deen, Mama," meaning, "Can I go in the den, Mama?" I said, "No, Sweetie. It's time to eat and take a nap." This seemingly benign exchange snowballed into a chain of defiance and tantrums that lasted for the better part of 20 minutes. At one point, I put Freddie back in the van and shut the door, so that I could carry Jones upstairs and put him in his crib to (HOPEFULLY) calm down.
Not 20 seconds later, I'd left Jones screaming in his crib and headed back to get Freddie. I'd assumed he'd be in the backseat, where I'd left him. He wasn't.
He'd climbed up to the driver's seat and upended my (thankfully empty) Coke can from when we'd driven Jeremy to work this morning. It was amazing how quickly that little bit of comic relief diffused my frustration with Jones ... until I got back upstairs and heard that he was STILL SCREAMING.
I suddenly understand why Mamas need Nites Out.
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