Are you a parent going through the Terrible Twos? Did you live through them and survive? Terrible Twosdays is a place to commiserate over the unending shenanigans of your Darling Children (as the online parenting communities say). Nonfiction stories will be considered, so long as names have been changed to protect the guilty. Inspired by […]
Tag: age four
It suddenly occurred to Rudi that not only was she alone in a strange and empty city, but it was Thanksgiving . . .
If Rudolf Dreikurs had not died in 1972, I might be in prison today . . .
Beautiful spring day in Ohio. Laundry room in the basement. Hanging clothes on the inside line from the dryer so they won’t be a wrinkled mess. My son, as usual, hungry for a snack. How does he always know when I don’t want to be interrupted in the middle of a task? . . .
We had recently moved and were delighted to find a babysitter across the street and a few doors down. Allison was about fourteen and lived with her dad, who had told us that his wife had recently passed away . . .
Captain America is cupping my son’s balls this morning.
Yes, you heard me right. Captain America—in full uniform, arms out wide, shield in hand—is spread across my four-year-old’s nuts as we speak . . . because when my son woke up this morning, he walked into the living room, frank and beans in full display on top of his pajama pants. When I inquired about this oddity, he said his pee-pee hurt and begged me to fix it. Of course I agreed to help. What’s a mommy to do? . . .
Every day at 3:15 p.m. my son and I walk two blocks to pick his sister up from kindergarten. Every day he has a fit, a small tantrum, or decides to become sixteen months old and needs to be held the few blocks to school . . .
As a father, I don’t believe I have yet had my finest hour—and as a father of four little girls, I doubt I ever will. It’s not that I haven’t gently wiped away a tear or two, or bandaged a skinned knee, or made my share of macaroni and cheese and peanut butter sandwiches. I have. But it’s out in public where I mostly fall down . . .
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