Everybody talks about "Terrible Twos" to prepare the parent for what's in store. And there's no consistency on exact start of this phase. Some say, it's immediately after the first birthday. They've technically begun age 2. Others say, it's after the second birthday. And of-course parents would want to believe the wise person who said, "after the second birthday" in the blinding optimism of postponing the torture on self.
But the weird part is, nobody talks about the "terrifying threes", "fearsome fours", "feisty fives", and so on. My mom says, she's also familiar with the "twisted twenties" and "thought-less thirties". Now I don't know how she came up with that.
So turns out "terrible twos" are just over hyped.Or may-be they'd like to warn you just about the first phase of terrible. And once you've started experiencing it, you won't have the time to stop and realize that the phases are actually changing until the little one gets a spouse. Then that's a whole another phase. But since I want to believe it's too distant in future for me, I am not going to delve on that.
So where am I? Fearsome Fours. D is so vocal and logical and so insistent it's scary. I mean, I can't get away with "do this, because I said so" anymore. It's like a subdued version of handling a teenager. She's preparing me pretty well for the years ahead.
Just yesterday, D was up to another mischief, and I decided she was ready for the silent treatment. True enough, she couldn't stand all the silence. She's used to the sound of nagging and suddenly there's this deafening silence, except of course all the stuff she's dropping on the ground, and the chairs she's pulling across the floor.
She didn't realize I was silent when she was applying all the face paint on her table. She realized it, after all the mess was created. "Mamma, why are you not talking to me?" she was surprised. No response. She tried a couple of times and came closer to me, lifted the hair out of my ears, and tried,"Can you hear me? I made a mess". No response. It was only then that I realized she was not used to silence. There's always so much sound in the house, that silence is completely unnatural to her. She's not intolerant though, she's seen kids who don't talk much, and she knows the reason. So with her logical deduction, she again came up to my ears and whispered "Are you shy, Mamma?"
And it took a whole lotta will power, just to curtail the burst of laughter. Silent treatment, my @#$%!