You are so two...

We were truly blessed in Otter's months between, say nine months and turning two years old. While many of our friends' kids had screaming frustration fits when they couldn't communicate what they wanted, Otter had signs and words early enough and in enough volume that we could almost always figure out what he was asking for, and thus avoid melt-downs.

Also, Otter is, in general, a fairly congenial and quite joyful child, one who enjoys figuring things out for himself and yet doesn't hesitate to ask for help when he needs it. He plays well on his own and generally plays well with other children; he doesn't (or I should say "hasn't) tend to hit to get his wway, instead preferring a firm yank on the toy he wants and lots of loud NOs. His daycare providers are often heard to tell the other children "use your words" when they have a conflict. This is rarely needed with Otter, who has, from a young age, been very able and eager to use his words to tell others what he needs, what he wants, and what someone else should do or stop doing.

Do you sense a twist coming? Ah yes.

The year of two has arrived. Now, despite being able to tell us what he wants, despite our fairly good efforts at offering Otter small manageable choices and consistent (but flexible) structures and routines and rules, despite our responsiveness to his needs while also working to help him become civilized and not worry that he is the one in control, Otter is now a few weeks over two years old. This has apparently flipped some internal indecisive tantrum switch, a switch that means all those fabulous parenting skills we thought we were building count for, to be precise, nothing. They are much like the duct tape that Homeland Security said we should all have on hand to protect against terrorist attacks: entirely beside the point.

So, for example, this morning Otter asked G for crackers at breakfast time. G promptly pulled out several crackers--a kind Otter has especially liked recently, as recently as Monday night--and gave them to Otter.

So Otter got the crackers he had requested--and threw a fit. "Cack-ahs! No Cack-ahs! NO NO NO!" Apparently the crackers has somehow become not merely undesirable but deeply offensive to him.

When I got out of the shower, from whence I had been able to hear loud yelling and thuds of Otter flinging himself about in his high chair (those things have straps and buckles to secure the child for a reason), Otter had rejected the crackers utterly and was weepily consenting to eat a few bites of applesauce.

As I gave him a kiss and said to him "I know, honey, it's hard to be two. you can't figure out what you want; it's confusing," some sort of light bulb went off in Otter's head and he had the epiphany that what he really needed to make his life complete was crackers--but not plain crackers: crackers with sunflower seed butter on them. "Cackahs! Butter on cack-ahs! Butter! Seed butter!"

So I spread sunflower seed butter on Otter's previously rejected crackers, and he ate them with great eagerness and every appearance of good will and good temper.

Similarly, at a recent family event, Otter had a mini-melt-down and one of his favorite relatives offered to take him outside for a walk. Otter wailed, fussed, said "No," and so his father and I removed him for the hubbub of the family gathering and put him in the car to go back to our cabin where he could calm down and decompress with fewer people around.

Two minutes into the car ride, a voice pipes up from the carseat: Walk outside with Debbie! Walk outside with Debbie!"

No, kid, that ship has sailed. But sadly, at two, you want what you want when you want it--and when you don't want it--and when you've already rejected it--and when you asked for it, rejected it, and then wanted it again.

This type of confusion is becoming a daily--more than once daily--occurence in our home. Often the tantrum is because Otter wants to wear long-sleeves and long-pants. (Why? We don't know. ) Unfortunately it's 75 to 95 degrees this week here, so we've been fairly insistent on short sleeves and short pants. We let him pick an outfit from a couple weather-appropriate choices, he seems excited, and then when he gets it on, realizing that we weren't lying when we warned him it did not have long sleeves and long pants, he flips out again. "Pull it down, pull it down!" as he yanks on the sleeves and the pants... followed by "Take it OFF! Take it OFF!"

For Otter, this whole interaction doesn't seem to get old, or boring through its repetition.

So we do lots of firm but loving little hugs and explanations of why he can't have what he wants, why we understand that he's upset, and so on.

It's the duct tape of parenting our two-year-old, who continues to tantrum when the spirit moves him.

I'm hoping that having a new sibling in the house taking up a lot of his parents' energy and attention makes Otter more his old congenial self.

Ha ha.