Welcome to the Mad House

It's 8:30am, and TT is hanging of the door of the freezer (no he is not an acrobatic, our freezer is on the bottom), trying to rip it open and screaming his head off.  I have just committed the gravest of ills in his eyes. I got myself ice out of the freezer and denied him a freezer-pop.  I calmly bend down, look him in the eye and tell him "You cannot have an icee before breakfast."  He throws his head back and wails, even louder, turning red with tears streaking down his face.

Welcome to the mad house.

TT has developed quiet the little temper these days.  It has to be done his way on his terms.

He does not like getting his diaper changed.  He does not like getting dressed.  He does not like anything that  involves his changing table.

These things make him mad.  Real mad.

If you deny him a toy he will lay on the floor and cry.

He turns beet red.  Some times he stomps his feet, slaps things, throws things.

Oh oh wait... my favorite... when he throws himself down in a full on hissy-fit.  That's always a good one.

I know you're not suppose to laugh when they throw their fits, but it is so hard not to.

So I stifle my laughter, and then I feel bad for him.  Poor little guy.  He just doesn't understand.  Or perhaps he just doesn't like "no" or being told what to do.

Now that I think about it.  Does anyone really like being told no or what to do?  I think not.  I guess as we get older we get tamer.... however in the meantime I am going to enjoy this trip back to the mad-house, as I swear I don't recall the older boy ever throwing a fit at this age.

Selective memory, I think.

In case you missed it, I've changed the boys' names on the blog.