Goodbye Terrible Twos
Colin is officially three, although the way his birthday went maybe the Terrible Twos was a better option!
The day started off well enough. He woke up happy, went to school as usual, and had a great party at lunch. I had ordered pizza for the class, and the night before he helped me make cupcakes (decorated on top with butterflies made from pretzels and frosting).
After school I picked the boys up and we headed home. Hari was already on his way (home early for the big boy's bday!) and was picking up dinner for the adults (Outback curbside) since Colin was having his favorite (chicken dinosaurs). We got home, I went to let Sydney out, and the usual race began. The moment Ryan heard the back door open he began his high-speed crawl to come see what we were doing, and Colin ran out as well insisting that he needed to "help." So there I was, the dog on the leash, baby in my arms, when Colin turned, looked at me, and... took off running.
Our back yard isn't fenced in. We live in a townhouse, and have roughly 20 feet of grass between our back door and the fence for the pool. This strip of grass runs behind our building, and at the end of the building continues to the left. If you take a second left you are then at the front of the development, if you take a right instead you're out on the street. Not good any way you slice it.
I darted inside the house, threw the leash on the floor (sorry Syd!), dumped Ryan (now sobbing) in the playpen, and sprinted off in search of Colin. Running in heels through wet, freshly mown grass isn't easy, but I can assure you it didn't slow me down one bit. I knew Colin was headed for the front of the development. Where cars come whizzing in at high speed, ignoring the stop sign and definitely not looking out for an errant 3-year-old. All I kept picturing was Colin's gravestone, with the same date for his birthday and... well... enough said.
Thankfully he didn't quite make it all the way out - he got distracted by a large dog who was standing at the back door of one of the homes, barking like crazy. (I now love that dog!) He pointed and exclaimed - Mommy! Look - the dog! He's barking! Colin was still all smiles, clearly not realizing my perspective on his little escape. I grabbed him by the arm and yelled at him, telling him he can't run away. He smirked at me, and I lost it.
I picked him up around the waist, carrying him like a football, and it wasn't until half way back to our house that he started realizing maybe things weren't OK. He started complaining that he wanted down, wanted to walk... I ignored him. We got in the house and I plopped him straight on his butt, took off his shoes and went to remove his jacket. That's when he started crying, because normally I make him do all that himself and I think he realized the proverbial doodie had hit the fan. I left his shoes (and mine) along with his jacket in the middle of the living room floor, still ignoring the sobbing baby and poor Sydney who had her leash on and was looking at me, clearly confused by the chaos. I then carried Colin upstairs, plopped him on his bed, told him a few times (very sternly, including the pointing finger) that he was NAUGHTY, and then told him to stay on his bed until Daddy got home.
That sunk in. Colin began sobbing hysterically, his lips nearly purple, insisting "I'm not naughty! I'm not! I'm a good boy. I wanna be good." My response? Too late, buddy. You were NAUGHTY, you stay here and wait for Daddy. Colin tried a couple of times to follow me out of the room, but I wasn't playing. I eventually closed the door to his bedroom, which elicited further hysterical sobbing, then went about calming poor Ryan, taking Syd's leash off, and making dinner for the boys.
When Hari got home he headed up to change clothes and talk to Colin, but didn't seem to understand my degree of displeasure, especially since it was Colin's birthday. I was hoping for a very stern daddy-lecture, but instead think it was more of a Mustafa-lecture. (There's a scene in The Lion King where the dad-lion, Mustafa, has to have a talk with little Simba for running off and playing where he wasn't supposed to. He briefly mentions the danger, but within seconds it turns to a playful father-son moment.) Either way, I simply couldn't deal with it - I was still too shook up.
Finally they came down, and we all had a nice dinner (and mama had a nice big glass of wine!), after which we opened presents. Colin hit the motherload - in addition to a Mr. Potatohead and a set of Hotwheels from his grandmother, he also got some dinosaur masks, dinosaur action figures (including his favorite: the stegosaurus brothers!), and an explorer's hat and vest (just like Diego!).
We thought the excitement was over, but that wasn't the case. Unfortunately Colin has been experiencing night terrors and another one hit around 12:30 that night. It was so bad the Colin couldn't/wouldn't talk to his father (I was walking the dog) and Hari got so worried he was standing at the end of the driveway waiting for me shouting "We have to go to the emergency room!"
I sprinted the rest of the way down the street, not knowing what the emergency was (did someone fall out of bed? get dropped? difficulty breathing?). When I got inside I held Colin, and eventually managed to calm him down a bit - not a lot, and it took a while, but he finally got back to sleep. We don't know what exactly was going on with him - he kept sobbing and saying his eye hurt (a periodic complaint, which we're going to have checked out with our eye doctor) and even asked to go to the doctor. Go figure.
Anyway, we somehow managed to survive Colin's actual birthday and have moved on from the Terrible Twos.
(Side note: the day after his birthday Colin had his annual checkup with the pediatrician, and we got his measurements. My tiny little peanut, who consistently tracked around the 10th percentile for height and weight came in at the top of the charts! Holy growth spurt, Batman... the doctor couldn't believe it. Colin is now 35½ pounds and 39½ inches! When I checked the growth charts this means he's in the 90th percentile for height, and roughly 80th percentile for weight. WOO HOO!)
After school I picked the boys up and we headed home. Hari was already on his way (home early for the big boy's bday!) and was picking up dinner for the adults (Outback curbside) since Colin was having his favorite (chicken dinosaurs). We got home, I went to let Sydney out, and the usual race began. The moment Ryan heard the back door open he began his high-speed crawl to come see what we were doing, and Colin ran out as well insisting that he needed to "help." So there I was, the dog on the leash, baby in my arms, when Colin turned, looked at me, and... took off running.
Our back yard isn't fenced in. We live in a townhouse, and have roughly 20 feet of grass between our back door and the fence for the pool. This strip of grass runs behind our building, and at the end of the building continues to the left. If you take a second left you are then at the front of the development, if you take a right instead you're out on the street. Not good any way you slice it.
I darted inside the house, threw the leash on the floor (sorry Syd!), dumped Ryan (now sobbing) in the playpen, and sprinted off in search of Colin. Running in heels through wet, freshly mown grass isn't easy, but I can assure you it didn't slow me down one bit. I knew Colin was headed for the front of the development. Where cars come whizzing in at high speed, ignoring the stop sign and definitely not looking out for an errant 3-year-old. All I kept picturing was Colin's gravestone, with the same date for his birthday and... well... enough said.
Thankfully he didn't quite make it all the way out - he got distracted by a large dog who was standing at the back door of one of the homes, barking like crazy. (I now love that dog!) He pointed and exclaimed - Mommy! Look - the dog! He's barking! Colin was still all smiles, clearly not realizing my perspective on his little escape. I grabbed him by the arm and yelled at him, telling him he can't run away. He smirked at me, and I lost it.
I picked him up around the waist, carrying him like a football, and it wasn't until half way back to our house that he started realizing maybe things weren't OK. He started complaining that he wanted down, wanted to walk... I ignored him. We got in the house and I plopped him straight on his butt, took off his shoes and went to remove his jacket. That's when he started crying, because normally I make him do all that himself and I think he realized the proverbial doodie had hit the fan. I left his shoes (and mine) along with his jacket in the middle of the living room floor, still ignoring the sobbing baby and poor Sydney who had her leash on and was looking at me, clearly confused by the chaos. I then carried Colin upstairs, plopped him on his bed, told him a few times (very sternly, including the pointing finger) that he was NAUGHTY, and then told him to stay on his bed until Daddy got home.
That sunk in. Colin began sobbing hysterically, his lips nearly purple, insisting "I'm not naughty! I'm not! I'm a good boy. I wanna be good." My response? Too late, buddy. You were NAUGHTY, you stay here and wait for Daddy. Colin tried a couple of times to follow me out of the room, but I wasn't playing. I eventually closed the door to his bedroom, which elicited further hysterical sobbing, then went about calming poor Ryan, taking Syd's leash off, and making dinner for the boys.
When Hari got home he headed up to change clothes and talk to Colin, but didn't seem to understand my degree of displeasure, especially since it was Colin's birthday. I was hoping for a very stern daddy-lecture, but instead think it was more of a Mustafa-lecture. (There's a scene in The Lion King where the dad-lion, Mustafa, has to have a talk with little Simba for running off and playing where he wasn't supposed to. He briefly mentions the danger, but within seconds it turns to a playful father-son moment.) Either way, I simply couldn't deal with it - I was still too shook up.
Finally they came down, and we all had a nice dinner (and mama had a nice big glass of wine!), after which we opened presents. Colin hit the motherload - in addition to a Mr. Potatohead and a set of Hotwheels from his grandmother, he also got some dinosaur masks, dinosaur action figures (including his favorite: the stegosaurus brothers!), and an explorer's hat and vest (just like Diego!).
We thought the excitement was over, but that wasn't the case. Unfortunately Colin has been experiencing night terrors and another one hit around 12:30 that night. It was so bad the Colin couldn't/wouldn't talk to his father (I was walking the dog) and Hari got so worried he was standing at the end of the driveway waiting for me shouting "We have to go to the emergency room!"
I sprinted the rest of the way down the street, not knowing what the emergency was (did someone fall out of bed? get dropped? difficulty breathing?). When I got inside I held Colin, and eventually managed to calm him down a bit - not a lot, and it took a while, but he finally got back to sleep. We don't know what exactly was going on with him - he kept sobbing and saying his eye hurt (a periodic complaint, which we're going to have checked out with our eye doctor) and even asked to go to the doctor. Go figure.
Anyway, we somehow managed to survive Colin's actual birthday and have moved on from the Terrible Twos.
(Side note: the day after his birthday Colin had his annual checkup with the pediatrician, and we got his measurements. My tiny little peanut, who consistently tracked around the 10th percentile for height and weight came in at the top of the charts! Holy growth spurt, Batman... the doctor couldn't believe it. Colin is now 35½ pounds and 39½ inches! When I checked the growth charts this means he's in the 90th percentile for height, and roughly 80th percentile for weight. WOO HOO!)
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