I’m having a rough day.  I’m suffering from the embarrassment of going in public with a strong-willed child.  I’m referring to the highchair battles and the naptime struggles.  I’m talking about those Terrible Two’s that begin much much earlier than two, where folks smirk at you and ask Haven’t you heard that this is what they do? or say, Well, that’s normal.

I don’t feel normal.  I feel like I suck pretty bad at this.

Now, occasionally when, after doing my very best, I have to put Little J down for a “cry it out” nap, I’ll call my mother on the phone.  I call her begging for sympathy.  And that is exactly what I get.

Oh, you were a real handful, too, Kath.  But little boys are different.  They don’t sit still, do they?  Yeah, don’t worry, I know what you’re going through.  You’re basically in jail.

Somehow this makes me feel better.  I’m not alone!  My mother wanted to get a refund on me, too.  I was strong-willed indeed.  She tells me that she joined a playgroup when I was very small where one woman dragged her kid around on “one of those leashes” and said things like, “There is such a thing as Parent Abuse, too.”  Apparently this kid made me look like an angel.

So, I guess it’s all relative.

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