My childless friends tend to coo when I speak of my 2 year old. I can practically hear their eyes growing misty over the phone lines and can sometimes detect a soft lullaby in their exhale. My favorite question is , “What is he LIKE now?” Well. He’s…TWO. Sooo, he really enjoys quantum physics and composing concertos in his spare time. Mostly in the minor keys. He tends towards the melancholy. I am mightily tempted to respond with such an answer.
The reality of a toddler, though occasionally charming, is, in actuality, often simply exhausting. He likes Dora the Explorer, playing catch ( though he’s never actually caught a ball ), and occasionally enjoys licking his playmates in Sunday school. He often throws his shoes and socks off in a desperate attempt at unfettered freedom mere moments after we’ve struggled to squeeze his squirming pork chop feet into them. He favors my high heels, much to the chagrin of his father. His squeal is able to reach such a pitch that he can attract every canine within three miles. He can deftly fit cutlery, CDs, and chicken nuggets into our antiquated VCR and is able to supernaturally divine the location of all hidden magic markers for the joy of crib graffiti. We’ve stopped saving money for college and instead have begun a fund for future bail. I’m seeing vandalism in my crystal ball…
There’s a reason this age is known as “the terrible two’s”. The way these small people hit, bite, kick, and throw. That limp spaghetti impression they all seem to be born knowing how to do-you know the one, when they DON’T WANT to be picked up darn it!!
Noise. Diapers. Smells. Mess. Did I mention the smells? WHO in their right mind would sign up for this? Well, I guess…I would. Did. Four times as a matter of fact. There must be something to it.
Perhaps it’s the cherub chub in those rose painted cheeks. Remnants of an all too rapidly fading babyhood. The sticky hands that reach for you, little arms outstretched, when they want to be held. Maybe it’s that delicious spot in the crooks of their necks that might very well be the softest place on earth to nuzzle. The joyous laugh they let loose when you do this, completely unencumbered by worldly woes. This infectious sound opens up the heavens for one shining moment. And as you lay them down to sleep and watch them rub their long-lashed eyes, blinking ever slower, all the chaos of the day turns to indescribable peace. Oh. Yes. That’s what it’s all about. That’s the reason I embarked on this adventure we call “parenthood” to begin with.
Did I say “utterly exhausting”? I think what I meant was..utterly delightful.
We’ll just wait until later to discuss what happens when they turn three.`