Terrible Twenties

The weather was nice this evening, so we headed to Merrell Park to watch the sunset and dip our feet into the lake. It was pretty packed, but we found a little spot on the beach with nobody on it. Troy was really excited to run around, but unfortunately the beach is uneven sandstone and loose rocks. He was finding it hard to keep his balance, so I made him hold my hand. Saying that he doesn’t like to hold our hand is an understatement. He has it in his head that we’re encroaching on his freedom and independence, so he vehemently jerks his hand out of ours and slaps our hand away. Not only does this irritate me on a normal level, but the fact that he doesn’t realize that I’m doing it for his own safety pushes me over the top.

At one point, Troy took off running down the beach, heading to where the bramble bushes were, so I picked him up to take him to another part of the beach. And that’s when the whole situation suddenly took a turn for the worse. Troy let out a blood-curdling scream, started trying to push himself out of my arms, and was crying until he was red in the face. I’d finally had enough of his tantrums.

Not embarrassed, but conscientious of the other people trying to enjoy the beach, I decided that he was done for the evening. So I headed to the car with a screaming, raging, out of control baby in my arms. I put him in the car, slammed the door, and let him cry. My wife came up a few minutes later and tried to calm him down, but he was inconsolable. Not because I wasn’t going to let him play on the beach, but because I wouldn’t let him do it his way. And he cried, and cried, all the way home...for fifteen minutes straight.

I didn’t think the terrible twos were supposed to start until they were two. I mean it’s right there in the name. How did we get the terrible twenties (twenty months)?! This is going to be my least favorite phase, I can tell already. I don’t have the patience for this every day.