The Taming of the Two

Despite all the evidence anecdotal and otherwise suggesting that a child's third year is the toughest, Kelly and I have have never really bought into the hoopla about the so-called "Terrible Twos." Until now.

Zach was a mellow baby and mellow if active toddler. Yes, Kelly and I had a mildly rough time with him from about four through five. But that probably had as much to do with all the changes he was going through—the addition of a sibling, my decision to stay home full time, moving, and beginning kindergarten—as anything. And it mostly often manifested itself in begging for things at the store—another problem of our own making, since we spoiled him horribly back then—and whining, which is occasionally still a problem. All in all, we got off easy with Zach.

Zoë was, almost from birth, our challenging child. As I've said before, I was horribly ill-prepared to parent full time when I decided to start doing so right after her first birthday. And, there’s no denying that Zoë is headstrong, outspoken, opinionated and, at more times than we'd like, defiant. We've seen some major improvement recently, but I have to think that all the changes Zoë’s had to deal with—moving to Redding and then twice more after that, losing her statuses as the only girl and youngest child, and most recently, changing schools—have not helped her. But was her third year any tougher than the rest? Not by my recollection it wasn't.

So, when Zienna turned two in May, I wasn't overly concerned, especially since she seems to be more like Zach—goofy, easy-going, happy almost always—than Zoë. She's occasionally shown signs of defiance, but nothing too extreme.

That is, until a week or two ago.

Suddenly, my eager-to-please girl is not so eager. And her favorite phrases have quickly changed from "That's a good idea" and "I like that" to "I can't do that" and "I don't want to." Uh-oh.

At the same time, she’s developed a charming habit of bursting into the most pathetic, halfhearted fits of crying—with full-on booboo lip in effect—the instant we express even the slightest hint of disapproval of her behavior or denial of something she wants. If it wasn't so annoying and predictable, it would be downright comical (and I suppose it is anyway).

And, when Zienna is particularly tired and/or frustrated, she's even taking to hitting (things, people, and even Shack—once, before he taught her a lesson with his claws) and throwing things. But even these acts she carries out with so little commitment and so much drama that they become semi-amusing.

If she's going to pull Zoë’s hair, Zienna slowly and very obviously raises her hand toward her sister as she does so, looking out of the corner of her eye to see if anyone’s watching. And when she throws something—usually one of her favorite books or toys—she does so very deliberately, right at her feet, and then bursts into tears while complaining that said object is on the floor. And I try not to chuckle.

Still, if this is the extent to which Zienna will be a drama queen, then handling it should be a snap. And, if it's coming this early, then I'm confident we can control her defiance and hopefully even nip it in the bud. After all, we've had expert training maneuvering all of Zoë’s challenges. So, each time I'm laughing over one of Zienna's amateurish displays, I'll remind myself to breathe a sigh of relief, knowing it could be so much worse.

And as for "Terrible Twos?" I'd say I'm still not convinced, but maybe I'd better not tempt fate, eh?