I’ve written before about how I thought Sam was getting into the “Terrible Twos” a little ahead of schedule, but it now appears that my pronouncement may have been a little premature. I apparently had no idea what “terrible” really meant.
Sam is still sweet as aspertane and I love her to death, but she’s really started to display some of those hallmark signs of independence that are, I guess, normal parts of development at this age. Can’t have pudding for dinner? To the floor! Kick! Scream! Need a diaper change? Kick! Squirm! See if you can make Daddy cry! The other trait that Sam has developed along these is possessiveness. She has learned the concept of possession, and we’re still working on sharing. In dealing with this kind of thing, though, the snarky part of me has learned to play off it to funny results. Take this recent conversation in my parent’s back yard as a for-example:
“That’s a nice stick,” I say. “Can I see it?”
Sam pulls the stick away and gives me the evil eye. “Mah sick!”
“Your stick? Okay, I’m going to play with this ball, then.”
“No! Mah ball!” She grabs the ball, still refusing to relinquish the stick.
“Oh,” I say, looking around. “I guess I’ll play with this fire truck.”
Sam grimaces on queue and lurches for the truck, still clutching stick and ball. “Mah fah tuck!”
“Okay, I guess I’ll just amuse myself with these pine cones.”
“No! Mah pah co” She’s now toddling around under the combined weight of a stick, a fire truck, a ball, and three or four pine cones. She keeps dropping various items and snatching them up again lets I make a grab for them.
At this point I have an inspiration. “Ooh, Sammy, look at this tree I’ve got.” I walk over to a tree and put my arm around a sufficiently large piece of the local flora.
Sam makes some kind of frantic noise from behind the pine cones and runs for the tree. Only she can’t see around her accumulated possessions so well, and she walks right into it, sending everything flying in all directions. I try not to laugh too much and remind myself that someday Sam will probably find a way to get even with me. Then we have a talk about sharing, which she ignores. There’s some kind of moral here, but it involves a kid running into a tree, so I’m not sure it’ll catch on.
I particularly love this one, which shows Sam inspecint a newly washed glass for spots. Some day she’ll make a fine waitress –in one of those fancy joints that don’t have any pictures of the food on the menus.