Bedtime at the ole house is always an adventure, especially with my two-year old son.
Tonight is a prime example; Jenni was putting Danny to bed tonight and turned off the TV/DVD player. Well, Danny took exception to that, because there was still a DVD in the player, and Jenni wouldn't get it out.
Danny got mad, and called Jenni a brat. Jenni got mad, and left him to cry. I should mention that Jenni also rode in a car for nearly seven hours today, due to the miscommunication from last week, so she wasn't in any sort of mood to be sassed at. Especially by a two-year old.
I get the DVD out of the player and get Danny to lie down. He grabs his blue blankie, and I ask him if he wants his Thomas the Tank Engine blankie, he says yes. Then the trouble began. You see, I then moved his blue blankie up closer to where he could hold it. He didn't want that and then proceeded to tell me that he didn't want me either. Okay. I'll go back out and watch the rest of LOST.
Out comes Danny. He grabs my hand and says that he wants me now.
Back to his room we go (he was pulling me along), where he continues his little crazy-boy meltdown. First, he doesn't want to lie down. Then he doesn't want to sit down. So, I tell him that he can just stand there. He doesn't want to do that either. He has snot running down his nose, so I grab a tissue to wipe it.
After six children, I am convinced that there is no such thing as the TERRIBLE TWOS, nope, it's the THREES that you need to look out for. So any new parents out there that might be thinking that their terrible twos aren't so bad. Just you wait, because the threes are coming and you will be so wanting those sweet little two-year old back. Trust me on this one.
Five minutes later.
Danny comes out in the best giggly mood, and apologizes to me and Jenni. Such a little angel. I took him back to his bed, prayed with him gave him several hugs and kisses, and he was asleep within minutes. He turns three in forty-one days. I better get all the hugs and kisses that I can, because for the following three hundred and sixty five days, it's gonna be a crap shoot trying to figure out what kind of mood he'll be in.