Monday, June 13, 2011


This morning, we met Grandpa at the diner for breakfast before taking The Boy to "camp" for the first time. Camp is at the same place that he's been going to preschool, and it's being taught by the same people. It's essentially preschool, but during the summer and with the occasional pool splashing. We're happy that The Boy still has Harriet as his teacher, as they love each other so much!

So, last night, the boys got to bed without much fanfare or drama. The Boy, because he took a late afternoon nap, did not get to sleep before 10 or 10:30, but he went to sleep quietly after getting his three stories and a few hugs. Little Bear woke suddenly at 12:30 and wouldn't quiet down until I brought him in bed with us. Maybe he's suffering from some separation anxiety? That would be a first, and kind of in line with the start of his terrible-twos behavior.

This morning, Little Bear woke at his accustomed 6:30, except he had Mum, Daddy, and The Boy upon which to bounce (The Boy having joined us at 5AM after a potty visit). We temporarily distracted him with an episode of Super Why, and we did our normal morning ablutions while The Boy slept and his brother vegetated. Little Bear dressed with minimal fanfare, and at 7:25 I started dressing The Boy. He fought getting dressed, fought getting his teeth brushed, fought the potty visit, and whined while we put on his shoes and threw him into the car. We were really looking forward to having a whiny, screamy 3-year old at Ritter's Diner.

Except, once we got to the diner, the cooperative and placid Little Bear began to melt down. He wouldn't stay at the table. He wouldn't stay near Mum or Daddy. He wanted to throw his toys (and my phone) instead of playing. He was loud, screaming, and crying, so I took him outside to calm down. When we got outside, things took a dramatic turn for the worse, and he wigged out like I've never seen him wig out.

At that point, I was faced with a couple of choices: call The Wife, tag out, and let her take care of it; let him cry until the food came, then bring him in and hope that pancakes would calm him down; or throw him in the car and drive around until they were done. I chose #3. We drove around the block a few times until the rest of the family was done with breakfast, then dropped The Boy off at school and took him home to eat and to calm down.

Separation anxiety, resistance to sleeping, major freakout in public places... looks like we're in his terrible twos. I was wondering what this was going to look like. Sigh.

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