Terrible twos, oh how I DON’T miss you. The constant crying, screaming, the i-don’t-care-what-you-say attitude.
Who knew it could get any worse? It couldn’t, could it?
I introduce to you.. Stroppy Sixes!
Alfie is the most loving, kind, gentle, polite boy – and I’ve been told this by many people.
You know the saying, ‘you don’t know what goes on behind closed doors’? ..It’s bloody true.
Although Alfie is all of those things, his attitude is a constant whirlwind of never ending sh*t.
I’ve always presented Alfie to be this perfect child, which in my eyes, he is.
Social media is a platform for me to show off his accomplishments, his beautiful voice and funny antics.
No-one gets to see some of the dark days we have, which include shouting back and forth and finally him being sent to his bedroom for slamming his cup on the kitchen table.
I did assume this stage would come eventually. Eventually meaning in 10 years time when puberty hits.
Despite the loveliness which is my Alfie – he is lazy, he back chats, and refuses to do the simplest of things asked of him.
It’s as though I am living with a teenager, and I’m not forgetting to mention the dirty underwear I’ve retrieved from his wardrobe!
So, when it comes to laziness, I’m talking anything.
I could ask him to put his dinner plate into the kitchen sink, the reply will be:
Because I bloody told you to, lazy child!
I’ve never been a big fan when it comes to harsh discipline, I’d like to say I’ve taken a more softer approach.
Which, unfortunately, has not done me any favours. Obviously.
He has me wrapped around his little finger and he knows I will do anything he asks due to the sheer delight of mum guilt.
Whether that’s putting his toys away, cleaning up his mess, or passing him the remote control which is at his arms reach.
This side of Alfie is unfortunately the only one, I, delightfully get to witness – whilst he mugs off the family thinking he’s some kind of angel child (but believe me, sometimes, he can be.)
Terrible Twos is something which I know I’d have to come across in his early days.
He was clingy, cried all the time and was so fussy it drove me to tears (and laughter with a hint of psycho).
Yet 4 years on from that, we’re at the point of terrible twos and a hint of teenager mixed together to create a giant sh*t pot.
Most of the time, or at least 90% of it – I haven’t even the slightest clue as to why my child is in a bad mood or giving me attitude.
Usually, that 10% of me knowing why my son is mad at me that particular day, is because I parented him.
No, I won’t be spoken back to in a sh*tty tone, nor will I be ordered around the house like a servant on roller blades.
Who thought having children would be a somewhat good idea? Besides the days when he is so lovely it makes my heart burst.
Life as a child must be so hard. *eye roll*
Some days I have to remind myself that he is entitled to his freedom to express emotion.
Whether that’s frustration, sadness, fear, happiness. It’s a part of who he is.
Although, I also have to remind myself most days that he is not the spawn of Chucky.
(Still debating it.)