A Tiny Terrorist

22 months… roughly… That’s all it took for my cute baby to turn into a Tiny Terrorist!

It’s fair to say she is embracing the early onset of the terrible two’s with every ounce of her being. I’m not altogether why I’m surprised, she’s pretty switched on little lady and is clearly VERY frustrated by the fact that her language skills are a little behind her self awareness.

Unfortunately the mornings seem to be particularly bad times for her… or is it because I reeeeeaallly need her to HURRY UP!

Today was a prime example. Grouchy from the moment I walked into her room. Uh oh!

A wrestling match to remove her sleeping bag (accompanied by loud screams of NOOO! from the lady herself!) were followed by a nappy change I can only compare to attempting to gift wrap an excited puppy (not that I have ever tried but I can’t imagine it would be easy!)..

And then to breakfast…… where things went from manageably challenging to seven shades of horrendous in the blink of an eye!

Offering the usual selection of breakfasts (I often wonder if I give the girls too much choice) Feisty Flo selected Weetabix… which she likes to eat with her hands – milk soaked Weetabix obviously being THE finger food of choice… (those who know us can only ponder what this does to the Husband’s state of mind!!). She happily ‘helped’ put the Weetabix in today’s bowl of choice and then promptly screamed the house down. Apparently, she no longer fancied this and would rather have a bowl of Granola (she’s ONE FFS!) topped with two packets of raisins. Of course it took around ten minutes snotty faced, ear piercing screaming and crying (her not me!) to establish this fact, during which time I see the precious minutes that will allow me to have either A) a hot cuppa, B) breakfast or C) both (I know, radical hey?!) slipping away into history. I almost joined the snotty faced crying!

Fast forward 25 minutes (YES, it does take THAT long to eat a bowl of cereal) and this is the scene…

 

It all looks so innocent that when I share the pics with ‘Daddy’ he replies “Aah, love her, she’s so cute”.. Hmm, and they say the camera never lies.. well it does, I tell you, it really bloody does!

Tummy fed, calm is restored… for about 30 seconds until I suggest cleaning teeth and getting dressed….. and so it goes on… until I lose the plot as she refuses to drink from her 5th drinks bottle of choice (meanwhile turfing all the obligatory plastic cups, bottles and boxes onto the kitchen floor) and I growl at her… Stunned silence prevails. Seizing the advantage I scoop her up, swoop her to the hall, install her shoes (obviously not the ones she WANTS to wear – cue more shouting) onto her feet and plant her firmly into the car before she can cause anymore carnage!

And what’s Big Sis been doing all this time… thankfully being an angel although the repeated rendition of Mumford and Sons ‘I will wait’ (or rather just the one line she knows!) that has accompanied by her determined attempts to skip with a rope (inside… yes.. I know!) for the last hour have combined to make me feel that, one day, I might just implode!

Please tell me I’m not the only one unable to cope with such high levels of energy, emotion, and noise without even a nice cuppa in the mornings?