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The terrible twos only last a year...right? RIGHT???
yin yang
hykue wrote in metaquotes
kaschelle rediscovers the joys of having a 2-year-old

So yesterday I was enjoying a book, secure in the knowledge that our house is baby proof, and completely gated. Imagine my surprise when I realized the quiet sounds of Dreighton playing, sounded like Dreighton playing quietly with pots and pans. I laid down my book and listened carefully...yes...those were definately the sounds of kitchenware.

I walk over to the kitchen filled with apprehension, and wondering how in the hell he managed to get through the gates. Both gates are still locked, however in the middle of the kitchen is Dreighton. The monster is currently bent over something on the floor, upon hearing me he jumps in fright, faces me, and puts his hands behind his back.

Thats when I notice it. Dreightons pride filled face slowly drops as he watches my face. Unrecognizable emotions fill me and threaten to break out, in tears, hysterical laughter, or perhaps screaming. He regards me the way you would a crazy person, someone who you suspect might leap out and tear your throat out any second.


He is trying to reason with me. Poor thing, you can't reason with an irrational mama. cook cake...

There is pleading in his face as I gape at the two cartons worth of organic eggs that have been (oh so quietly) smashed across the kitchen floor, at every single pot and pan from the drawers scattered across the counter top, each filled with a cracked egg, at the cereal spilled across the floor, mixed in with expensive eggy mash.


I regard the mess, and suddenly realize that raw eggs can cause salmonella poisoning, and that he is coverd in it. I quietly pick him up, carry him to the tub, strip him naked, fill up the tub, then leave the room and sink outside the door, laughing while I cry.

The terrible twos only last a year...right? RIGHT???

locked post, qwp

Oh the poor mom...... *dies*

Oh, dear.

Hey kaschelle? Only a year? Sometimes? Not so much. My younger did pretty much exactly this, with every imaginable ingredient (yogurt, jello, and chocolate chips! eggs and bananas! flour, peas, and applesauce!), oh, maybe fifteen times between the ages of 16 and 30-or-so months, and there existed no locking or childproofing device he didn't bust right through.

He's coming up on teenage-hood now and it's only in the last couple of years I've stopped instinctively trying to store anything semi-expensive/important at least four or five feet off the ground. Heh.

Before anyone tells me I should have watched him better? He would climb out of his crib at dawn or something and we'd get up and find him all spread out on the kitchen floor, happily stirring away in a tornado of smeared and spattered mess. He also managed to do these things at a certified and standards-compliant daycare. More than once.


Edit: my point wasn't to one-up. Just sayin', you're not alone here, man. :D

Edited at 2008-04-16 06:34 am (UTC)

Oh, my sister and I did something like this and we (well... I, really) was older than two. I'll just say it involved me encouraging my year-younger sister to toss eggs into the air so we could watch them smash on the ground (and, in my defense, it was a genius ploy. I could said that I didn't technically do anything) and my father, the brilliant man who was napping while he was supposed to be watching us, attempted to clean up the egg mess by pouring water on it all.

Anyone who thinks their house (or ANYthing) is "baby-proof" is huffing formula. Baby-proof is like child-proof, meaning that only children can open things and adults struggle while trying to find the magic Anglo-Saxon password. He climbed over the fence. You know how small children are always sticky in mysterious and vaguely disturbing ways? Climbing slime. They secrete it out of their pores and with it they can scramble over anything. Like flies.

Yes, the terrible twos only last a year. But then you get the thrilling threes! And by thrilling I mean that in the Chinese way.

Anyone who thinks their house (or ANYthing) is "baby-proof" is huffing formula. Baby-proof is like child-proof, meaning that only children can open things and adults struggle while trying to find the magic Anglo-Saxon password.

So true. My son was taking down baby gates before he could walk - just rammed them like a little elephant. Once he was walking, outlet covers were cute little presents to bring me or maybe leave for me to step on (just like Legos >.>), seeing as they were right at his level.

(Deleted comment)
Yeah, don't worry, he'll soon be finding new and different ways to destroy everything...

Doesn't really stop until they hit the 20's, if you're lucky! Although, at least at that point generally it's their own stuff they're going though.

You think that's bad? My sister, when she was 2 or 3, covered our dog (Australian Shepard mix, not a tiny thing) with Crisco. Two big cans of it. The dog, being a very good dog, just stood there patiently and let her. My mom's eyebrow still twitches when it's brought up.

My sisters covered our cat in mink oil when they were little.

Jinx wasn't fully clean for WEEKS.

My first regular babysitting job was for a five-year-old and a two-and-a-half year old that lived down the street. Once, when I was patching up the five-year-old after a fall, his brother insisted that he had to go potty. I told him to go ahead, and that I would be in in a minute to help him.

Once I finished with the BandAids and Neosporin on the older daredevil, I went looking for the younger one. Bathroom? No. Bedroom? No. Den, on top of the six-foot bookcase? Why, YES! I just about had a heart attack.


I guess I should feel lucky that the worst J has done in his 4 years on this planet is to grab a bunch of (thankfully washable) markers and decorate the kitchen floor.

Well, there was the one time I went to get him up from his nap and found him smearing poo on the walls.

He's never been one to get into too much trouble. It's just not his thing. His cousin E I could tell you some stories about that kid monster-in-training.

Don't forget the naughty language issue.

When I was 2, my parents divorced. Toddler me was Not Happy and dealt with this by not talking for at least a month. We were at my grandmother's house, just back from grocery store. My mother, while putting away the groceries, managed to drop a jar of molasses on the kitchen floor. Not thinking (and she was probably Not Very Happy during this time period either), she went, "shit, shit, shit!" at the puddle of broken glass and goo on the floor.

This is when I started talking again, much to my mother's dismay.

The terrible twos only last a year...right? RIGHT???


I'm told by my parents that mine lasted from 18 months to 3 years.

I have a nephew that, at the age of 3, couldn't be left alone with a screw driver. He once completely disassembled all of his grandmother's kitchen chairs. Another time, he totally took apart the equalizer for grandpa's stereo. (Lucky for him, my husband managed to get that put back together in working order before grandpa got home!)

Nephew is now a mechanic and has a degree in engineering. Whodathunkit? ;-P

My grandmother was fond of the saying that goes "What they take apart as children they will put together as adults."

This was used as a reason to indulge the kids' interest in taking apart alarm clocks and toys and such.

This is fine for the uncle that grew up to be a plumber. It's fine for the uncle that grew up work with alarm systems.

My dad is a veterinarian.

On the bright side, she's got a boy who likes to cook! She can start teaching him how to help in the kitchen, which means by the time he's twelve he'll be able to make dinner for the family on his own one night a week. ;)

Seriously, my mother has a picture of me sitting on the kitchen counter scrambling eggs while she holds me to keep me from falling on the floor. I'm two or three years old there.

My younger brother could pull metal talcum cans apart – didn’t have plastic ones in those days. He would disprove that there was such a thing as an unbreakable toy. Then there was the time he climbed the glass louver windows… my mother daren’t distract him in case he crashed through the lot. And it’s amazing how many things will actually flush down the toilet before it becomes blocked – I was also party to this.

Kids are never to be trusted, I know because I was one once.

Kids are never to be trusted, I know because I was one once.

This is my philosophy when it comes to my stepkids.

My mother will tell you that the terrible twos start at 2 and finish at n+2 (where n = the number of decades since my birth -- a depressingly high number these days).


yeah, terrible two only lasts a year... because they don't tell you about tyranical threes.... if we, as parents, really understood what the age of 3 would bring we'd either never breed or celebrate that birthday with a baby-BBQ.


heh... ah, yes... cake.

I would just like to say your kid has a great grasp of cause and effect and also is a keen observer of how his food is made, OP, so you can take to heart the fact that your kid may be a egg-covered scalliwag, but he's a smart one too.

I wish I could post the pictures of my daughter when she was 2 or 3, covered in blue stamp ink that she had rubbed over herself while I thought she was napping. These things happen.

Seriously! I had a friend whose kid was found in the kitchen with a pot, a spoon, and an extremely puzzled expression on his face because putting a pot on the (luckily turned off) stove and stirring it with a big spoon did not cause it to produce breakfast.


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