Patrick, the Two-Year-Old

There is not a doubt in my mind that Patrick is two. He can swing from being sweet and affectionate to...well, difficult in a fraction of a second.

One one hand, he loves to imitate us, especially when it makes us laugh. Yesterday we were in the car when "Funkytown" came on the radio. Matt and I laughed at it and decided it was more interesting than the songs on the other stations we frequent, so we left it. When I noticed Patrick was bouncing his foot to the beat of the song, I told him to say "funkytown." All three of us died laughing when we heard, "Fu-kee-ta," (with the emphasis on the middle syllable, like fajita) from the backseat. He continued to repeat it all evening because it got a big laugh every time.

Then there's his love for his brother. He loves to make Nathan laugh and always wants to kiss him good night before naps and bedtime. He has even adopted his Elmo to be his own baby and carries him around when I have Nathan. He brings him along for his own diaper change when Nathan is getting changed, and Elmo gets put down for "sleep tight" when Nathan does. This nurturing imitation is so adorable. I love this part of the stage.

On the other hand, though, Patrick has learned the fine art of throwing the most aggravating tantrums ever. No longer can they resolve themselves in five or ten minutes; they can easily last an hour or more now. None of us even remember what started the tantrum in the first place by the time it's over. It's all because Patrick doesn't get what he wants the second he wants it. He has become demanding and whiny all of a sudden, and it's driving Matt and me crazy. No amount of punishment seems to make the slightest difference, and time-outs have been enforced more for our own sanity than to correct Patrick's behavior. This is a very trying phase.

Oh, and there's the hitting game. Patrick has decided it's a fun game to hit or kick Mommy. He repeats, "No kicking," and then laughs. He remembers it as a game, not an admonishment. Again, punishments aren't helping because he can't connect them to the action. He can't imagine that I'd punish him for playing a game, so he thinks the punishments are simply meaningless. I'm at my wit's end with the whole situation.

I'm trying very hard to remember that this age will not last forever and that I need to cherish all these sweet moments because I'll miss this age when it's gone. But in the midst of one of these marathon tantrums (of which there are several each day), all I can think about is how quickly he will be a three-year-old and past the worst of this stage.

Because shortly after that, Nathan will be a two-year-old. Sigh. What have I gotten myself into?