The terrible twos have arrived with a vengeance which is depressing beyond belief because not only is Archer 22 months (two months left, people!) but I have been emotionally unprepared for tantrum-fest 2007. It wouldn’t be a big deal if the craziness happened in the privacy of our own house but the moment the front door opens, the devil horns push through Archer’s forehead and the raarrrrrrrghhhh begins.
Rarrrrgghhhhhhhh: (n) Pushing, kicking, screaming, terrorizing, screaming, being crazy, screaming, dropping to the pavement/cement/asphalt while arching back and screaming. Did I mention anything about screaming?
But the worst was early this week when, determined to enforce the you-must-hold-my-hand-when-you-cross-the-street rule, against Archer’s rarrrrrghhhh, we ended up stopping traffic as a tantrum erupted on the crosswalk of a somewhat busy Los Angeles intersection.
It was one of those moments when as a parent you have two choice:
1. Succumb to the Rarrrrghhhhh and let the kid have his way
2. Fight it out and to hell with the line of honking cars.
This is one of the toughest decisions to make and there have been plenty of times when I have gone with option #1, but in this case I decided to go with option #2 and fight the darkness
The cars collected as I stood over Archer who was Rarrrrrrggggghhhing in the street until the honking started. I panicked, grabbed Archer by the hand and dragged him across the street as he kicked and screamed.
“You have to hold my hand,” I said.
“We’re almost there! Come on dude.”
I was mortified. Archer was pissed off. And the motorists were totally annoyed but at least I had won. I had won!
“I am the master!” I screamed aloud at the heavens, “The MAAAAAAASTER!”
And then today, the same exact thing happened: tantrum in the middle of the street, refusal to hold my hand.
Except this time, I gave in. I went with option #1.
I am soooo not the master, dude.
And for that, i feel like Rarrrrghhhhhhing.