The Blessing of Terrible Twos

Tonight, in the midst of a normal two-year-old meltdown (we were feeding him too slowly), the following came out of Steve's mouth:

"Jonathan, it sure would be nice if while you're the SIZE of a ONE year old, you'd ACT like a one year old.  And then, once you're the size of a TWO year old, you'll look around and say, 'well, I'm THREE now, so I'll just act like a three year old.'"

It is very very good to see JAM getting upset about preferences, like the absence of favorite toys, or the fact that "HIS" spot on his parent's lap is occupied by his sister -- and NOT crying just because of pain or exhaustion or hunger.

When he was intubated in the NICU, we longed to hear him cry, to hear him tell us how he felt.

When he was lethargic from failure to thrive, we were glad when he'd cry out and tell us he was upset. It seemed like it took so much for him to complain, and we wanted to be there for him.

So while Steve jokes that it'd be nice if Jonathan would skip the "Terrible Twos," and while sometimes I wish that he'd wait until I'd had at least one cup of coffee before he began his morning meltdown, we are delighted to see him complain.

It's good to have a kid that's healthy and happy enough to have a temper-tantrum. 

It's good for us to cry out and mourn. It's when we do so that we are comforted.