So This is Two.

If you’ve had a two-year-old, then you know there are two types. There’s the Oh yeah, my daughter is two and then there’s the OH MY GOSH MY DAUGHTER IS TWO.

 

Last weekend we finally became further acquainted with the latter of the two twos.

 

You know how they say morning sickness essentially turns off like a light switch when you reach 13 weeks of pregnancy? I swear the two-year-old attitude pops off and on the exact same way. Go to bed Friday night laughing and happy, wake up Saturday sobbing and whining (her, not me, although depending on the day...kidding, kidding) and not knowing at all why she’s upset.

 

Seriously, she didn’t know why; I asked her.

 

Adelyn, why are you crying? What’s wrong?

I DON’T KNOW, MOMMA! (tears streaming down her face).

 

So this is two.

 

Nothing hurt, nothing was taken away, but we experienced roughly nine hours of pure sobs over absolutely nothing.

 

Momma, I want up.

No, Momma, put me down! Down!

 

Momma, I want milk.

Please, Momma, I want milk.

Momma, may I please have milk?

Momma, I don’t want milk! No, I don’t WANT MILK! I don’t want it!!

 

All.Day.

 

I swear I have never been so confused in my life. And Husby. Poor Husby. If the words in his brain could have made their way out on paper I’m sure they would have looked something like:

 

WhatonearthisgoingonarethoseevenwordsihavenoideawhytheressomuchyellingwhyissheyellingnowshescryingwhyisshecryingholycrapwhatamisupposedtodoshouldihelpheatherorjuststandhereokiseeheathersfacedefinitelyjuststandherewhyamistandingherwherecanigoisthisgoingtobeforeverTHEFEMALSPECIESDOESNTMAKESENSE!!!

 

Terror. Confusion. Exhaustion. Defeat.

 

And then suddenly, at about 5:30 p.m., the light switch flipped again. The OH MY GOSH MY DAUGHTER IS TWO turned back into oh yeah, my daughter is two. And just like that we were building houses with duplos, dancing around the living room and reading books as if the last nine hours had never happened.

 

So…this is two.

 

Then came Sunday. The exact time I updated Adelyn that her breakfast was done just so conveniently happened to be the exact time she had to practice her running feet. At this point I was so scared to have another day like Saturday that I just sat on the floor at the end of her invisible racetrack and fed her a bite every time she got to my end.

 

Apparently cold eggs are quite ok for the oh yeah, my daughter is two. You see I’ve already learned something because Saturday’s OH MY GOSH MY DAUGHTER IS TWO child’s breakfast was either waaaaay too hot, or grossly cold.

 

Sunday proceeded with ease. The three of us went to Starbucks where Adelyn very happily sipped on her kids hot chocolate (which, did you know, they automatically heat to a much lower temperature so it’s essentially drinkable on receipt by even a very temperature conscious toddler? Seriously, Starbucks, you never cease to hook me just a little bit more).

 

As we left Starbucks and Adelyn caught glimpse of the big red letters across the street, she requested a trip to Target.

 

{Insert judgy “your child drinks Starbucks and recognizes Target at two years old” comment here. Go ahead, I’m not even a little ashamed. In fact if you want more ammunition the kid even knows the Starbucks logo is a mermaid and prefers her pull-ups are purchased at Target over other stores if she’s with me when I buy them. And I’m a little bit proud of that to be completely honest.}

 

So we went to Target, something dangerous for both Husby and me because I swear they filtrate the air system with some sort of I-want-to-buy-everything-in-here drug because that’s essentially what happens to both of us. But Adelyn? She was great. She enjoyed the walk, pointing out every character item she recognized and repeated over and over and over again, “Daddy, don’t be sassy” in the cutest two-year-old voice that caused anyone within earshot to laugh and encourage her cuteness a little more.

 

So this is two.

 

We sat down for a family lunch at home, and she helped me set the table. She maintained the very important job of pouring ingredients into the mixing bowl to make pumpkin cornbread before the Packer game, and she complimented me multiple times on how good the food is that I cook.

 

So this is two.

 

Two is a funny age. At this point I wouldn’t describe it as “terrible” like the saying goes. While Saturday truly was terrible, most days really aren’t. Two’s are definitely turning out to be trying. Adelyn’s figuring out where she can push back on us, but she’s also learning where she can’t. For time outs now all I have to do is look at her and point to her room saying “Time out. Now.” And she walks herself right in, closes the door behind her, and climbs onto her time out chair. (Then she says repeatedly “I’m all done crying, Momma. I’m all done. I’m sorry, I’m all done”, which is the most pathetic yet the funniest thing.)

 

Husby and I are both pretty strong-willed (ok ok, Husby’s pretty strong-willed. I’m very obnoxiously strong-willed), so Adelyn’s strong-willed personality is something we expected. But with every OH MY GOSH MY DAUGHTER IS TWO switch that goes on, we get the almost too sweet oh yeah, my daughter is two for even longer. Two's are proving to be fun.

 

At bedtime Monday night Adelyn told me to lay my head next to her on her pillow and she proceeded to play with my hair and sing twinkle, twinkle little star to me.

 

So…this is two.

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