Who kidnapped my daughter and put a scary dinosaur in her place?

Don't let this face fool you. YaYa has entered the two-year-old phase of her life which I will not call "terrible" although I'm very very tempted to. I'll just call them the "Tyrannosaurus Rex Twos". She is terrifying. All twenty-seven adorable pounds of her. The "Terrifying Toddler Twos". She's not her brother, that's for sure. She's something all her own.

YaYa has always had a will of steel, but she's always been so agreeable, so willing to go along with our ideas. Now she's more likely to lie sobbing on the bathroom floor because I'm washing her breakfast bowl.


It's clear that if I don't want to battle I may no longer:

1. Notice anything she's done. If I do something as mean as say, comment on how beautiful the picture she's drawn is, she'll a) Burst into tears and/or b) Throw her piece of art as far as she can (which isn't very far, considering that she's only, you know, two).

2. Attempt to spoon feed her when she's not eating. Her father can still do this because he's funny and handsome.

3. Look at her. (She may cry)

4. Not look at her (She may shove her face next to mine and cry.)

5. Nurse her little brother. (Sorry Leaf)

Of course, since this isn't YaYa's World, we won't be following those rules. Which means that between my melancholy, argumentative, just-now-learning-that-I'm-not-his-servant son and my fierce Tyrannosaurus Rex daughter I'll be starting a 24 hour intervention parenting program. It's so much fun! Come on over and we'll include you! You can just sit and try to talk with me (it's even better if you're pouring your heart out) and I'll interrupt you once a minute by saying, "Get your foot off of the baby!" or "No, I'm not going to make you Creme Brulee!" I'm sure you'll feel very heard. People told me. I didn't believe them, but they told me, when I had baby YaYa in my arms and nineteen-month-old Kid A running around, that it would get harder. I really didn't believe them. Whoops.


Thankfully, God knew what He was doing when He made two-year-olds, because although they can be stormily emotional and just plain scary (I honestly think that YaYa's will is about a hundred times stronger than mine, He also made them adorable. From kissing me all over my face to her little faltering sentences that she's mastered overnight, my Ladybug is more than delicious. She's scrumptious. So, I guess we can get through this. But why? I miss my biddable YaYa, although I knew she had to go and maybe she'll be back one day.