Somewhere in the midst of the Christmas holiday chaos and an 8 week run of various illnesses, my little baby turned 2! This momentous milestone was not really celebrated as we’d planned. Myself and him were feeling rotten that week (and many others) so we weren’t very good company. Luckily his second birthday wasn’t something he noticed or missed. He was more than happy with a bunch of presents and little fuss. Thankfully the spell of illnesses seems to be over (I think we ran out of new ones to get!) and now we’re just dealing with the terrible twos.
‘Terrible Twos’. The first thing you think of when you hear that phrase is tantrums. And so far, that’s been absolutely correct. The tantrums. My God, the tantrums. I’m almost speechless at the depth and range of emotion that has been hurled at me in the last few months. The sheer irrationalness of it all. The epic scale of the rage. The relentless assault of meltdowns – all day, every day. It’s been… interesting? Some days it’s been impossible to get out of the house. The worst of this particular patch seems to be past now (I hope) and the outbursts of temper have subsided to a more normal and somewhat manageable daily quota.
Due to the illnesses, Christmas, and very lengthy period of emotional adjustment… I’m only really getting around to admitting now that my baby is really no longer a baby. Last year he’d insisted that he was a baby, not a boy. Now we’re already debating with him whether he’s a little boy, or a big boy. He favours big boy. We’re not yet convinced. So I guess it’s time to retire the nickname Yoga Baby that once suited his temperment so well. He still retains his love of popping out a downward dog at every opportunity, but he’s also a bouncing whirling bundle of hilarious energy that will henceforth be known here as the Rascal.
Stay tuned for our upcoming adventures in Lisbon…