“I’ve gone mad.” It’s a simple thought that flashed through my mind as my toddler whined, trying to get me to pick her up while pulling on my shirt – a shirt I like quite a lot, thank you very much; and now I’m not so sure my neckline will ever be the same.
I was on the phone. That’s usually what triggers the madness; when I’m focused on something important. Toddler’s have a knack for knowing when their mamas are focused on something more pressing than refilling their snack cup. I think a mother’s focus sends out a beacon, some kind of warning only they can understand that says, “Intervene now, the world is not revolving around you! Scream! Beg for yogurt! Poop your pants! Just do something, she’s on the phone with her bank AND HER TONE SOUNDS SERIOUS!”
I’ve never felt so crazy than when my sweet, perfect, innocent angel became a 2-year-old. Like a fool, I continually think I’m interacting with a rational being. Perhaps a being with limited understanding and communication skills, but certainly someone who isn’t savvy enough to make me intentionally lose every single one of my marbles. Or is she? How else can one explain a toddler asking for a banana, then crying when you give them a banana? She’s playing me like a fiddle. That’s what she’s doing. But why? Is she just a 2-year-old nutbag, or is she some kind of manipulative mastermind?