to be two. 2b2.

Clark is impossible these days. Impossible. But when he's not being impossible, he's a real joy--a great stage. Luckily we're looking at about 50/50 right now. If it tips up on the impossible end I'm going to lose it completely, rather than just partially, which is where we are now.

It's like he got a memo--the instant he turned two he began to rampage. It was almost overnight, and it's quite unhinged me.

It's hard to be two. You want to be independent, and there are many things you can now do by yourself, but there are lots and lots that you can't do, that you still need Mommy for. Knowing you still have that need can be scary. It's a big world, and at two you suddenly realize that it's bigger than your little space, bigger than you and Mommy, and Clark woke yesterday from his nap screaming. Not just crying and calling for me, but shrieking. When I got him and his blankie settled on my lap he said a dinosaur and a tiger had been chasing him, and neither Daddy nor I were there. I bet that's sort of what it feels like in general, that anxiety of being suddenly alone and trying to outrun the monsters.

Then my friend W mentioned that her daughter, who is exactly one week older than Clark, has her molars coming in and has been miserable. That hadn't occurred to me, so I checked when I was brushing his teeth, and sure enough he's got half of two new teeth in the back. Ouch. At least he's not keeping me up at night, like W's daughter is her. Could his pain-in-the-ass-ness just be teething? Could my philosophy of two year old development just be over-thinking?

Not that I've done that before.