Next week my baby is going to be three.
As he keeps telling me, “I not a baby, I a big boy mummy.”
In theory I should be happy to say goodbye to the “terrible” twos, but I’m not. They really haven’t been that terrible at all.
Yes, the potty training has been trying. Yes, the end-of-the-world tears at the most random of things is tiring. Yes, the fact I can recite almost word-for-word entire episodes of Thomas the Tank Engine and Fireman Sam is probably not exactly ideal. But before we enter the threenager stage (I’m so not ready!) here are some
reasons I love the “terrible twos”.
All the feels: Only last week for the very first time Sonny Jim said to me utterly unprompted and out of nowhere, “my love you SO much mummy.” (Heart melting much?) He also tells me that “my happy now,” shows genuine concern for the feelings of others (including the trains on Thomas, “Gordon saaad mummy, he needs a rub now”) and hugs you, just because he wants to.
The helping: Though two-year-olds are, ahem, a little stubborn, that do-it-my-SELF demand actually means they are the perfect little assistant. From hoovering to preparing dinner, I’ve never had anyone so dedicated to helping!
Living in the moment: Nobody lives as in the moment as much as a two-year-old. There are no grudges, no worries. Just all the fun, right now.
Joy in the little: Rubbish trucks warrant jumps of joy. Street lights coming on gets ear shattering squeals – Every. Single. Night. And the sight of a feather blowing in the breeze? Well, he might actually spontaneously self-combust.
The belief in you: As far as Sonny Jim is concerned, mummy can kiss everything better. The rest of the world might think I’m a bit of a muppet at times, but not him. (Please tell me this lasts just a little while yet?!)