Our Little Freight Train

Please, Lord, tell me this isn’t a precursor for things to come. Please? PLEASE!

Now, I’ve heard of moms refer to this as the ‘terrible twos’, but my Little Miss isn’t even two yet, and, really, do I want to call her ‘terrible’? I’ve always found it off-putting that moms would call their little babies ‘monsters’, but, oh, my goodness! The recent whining, yelling, spanking, pinching, hair-pulling, tantrum-throwing, hurling-everything-she-can-get-her-hands-on, all-around nightmarish behavior conjures up images of a tinier and less vicious version of Frankenstein’s destructive creation. I know I have to be honest with myself and face the reality that my darling little daughter is not the Princess Prim and Proper I thought she would be.

My Man and I have found ourselves having to put her on timeouts already, but at her very young age, I doubt that it makes any impact just yet. No sooner had we let her get up and play than the cycle of bad behavior starts up again.

Oy vey.

Don’t get me wrong. She isn’t always like this. She can be truly sweet, charming, loving and compliant, but recently, the unpleasant side of her rears its head more and more. Sort of like Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. Only not ugly and not evil and definitely huggable and adorable.

These days, I realize that I mostly sound like a drill sergeant:

“Sophie! Don’t walk on the edge of the bed!”
“If you don’t stop hurling your toys, you won’t get to play with them anymore!”
“Sophie, quit chewing on your toes!”
“Pulling your cousin’s hair is not nice!”
“Your booger isn’t food, Sophie!”

At the end of the day, I’m hoarse and I’m tired from repeating myself, over and over. And I don’t just say these things, you know. I take her out of the hazardous or silly positions she puts herself in, away from the other kids she might end up hurting and what have you.

So far, none of my efforts seem to be working. I do so pray that this is just a stage and that she’ll outgrow it soon enough.

Preferably before she hits her teenage years.

All in all, I resort to praying for her every day. In fact, I pray for Sophie with Sophie. I figure now’s as good a time as any to start training her to pray for guidance and wisdom. Because I admit, I often find that I’m at my wit’s end and winging it, but I know God isn’t grasping at straws when it comes to raising my daughter. He is very determinedly peeling away at her layers to get at the girl, the woman that He wants for her to be.

And I guess, if it has to come to it, and He deems Nanny-911 is the way to go, then so be it, eh?

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