Whoever coined the phrase “terrible twos” must have stopped the parenting process right before their child turned 3-years-old. Seriously, because in my house, these days it seems as though the words “terrible” and “THREE” can go hand-in-hand.
At 2-years-old, my son Aiden was the sweetest thing ever. Yes, he had some trouble sharing his toys, saying the word “yes” as often as he said the word “no,” and controlling his tantrums. However, that didn’t matter so much because he was so small and so cute and didn’t have the extensive vocabulary to verbalize his thoughts. After all, he was only 2-years-old.
Enter age three. Aiden has a vocabulary – a very big one, and one that he is not afraid to use. The boy will speak his mind and tell every and anybody exactly what he’s thinking. I love that about him. Sometimes.
Other times, eh, not so much. But I digress.
Sometimes it’s almost as if he forgets he knows words. Any words. When Aiden is upset or sad or excited or any range of emotions besides just plain happy, he forgets that he knows how to use words. He’ll scream or jump or kick or have a full-blown tantrum – usually in public – instead of using his words. Whether ecstatic or sullen, he expresses himself in a very physical way. Each. And. Every. Time.