One of my personality traits is that I have incredibly high expectations of the people I surround myself with. I know that it is sometimes difficult to be my friend, but it is probably even more difficult to be my child. No one is perfect and it disappoints me to know how easily I forget that. #1 is two years and eight months old. He is right in the thick of things as far as toddler insanity goes. He can be set off by the word "NO" or just enjoy the random Code Red, Hurricane Level 4 tantrum.
Up until a few days ago, I started wondering if there was something psychologically wrong with him. Then I talked to some people at work. It's normal. This crazy, irrational behavior is totally normal - which makes me feel like an asshole because when people ask how the boys are doing, I say the baby is awesome (I cannot imagine a better baby) and the older one is like a little terrorist. You cannot reason with a terrorist.
Truth of the matter is that while #1 certainly throws his share of tantrums and has the kind of piercing scream that can make dogs within a three mile radius vacate, he is a beautiful, sensitive little dude. He's never tried to beat up or bite his little brother. He has a wonderful sense of humor. He's incredibly logical and strategic. His passion is not Barney or Yo Gabba Gabba - it's the Von Roll Type 101. He's goddamn brilliant. I need to remember this when we're at Walmart and he wants to go right when we need to go left and the screaming ensues (my little Scream King).
This too shall pass.
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