There is a war brewing inside my household. The chief instigator – Mark. His enemy – the world! It looks like the “terrible twos” have hit him early.

Poor Mark, he is at that stage where he wants to do everything himself, e.g. dress himself, feed himself, etc. Unfortunately, he still hasn’t fully developed all the skills necessary to do these tasks on his own. Herein lies the problem. Take for example when he tries to put his shorts on. First he has to choose which pair of shorts he wants to wear. Heaven forbid you decide for him. Then he wants to put it on by himself (for this reason I have hidden the button up shorts). I let him do so as I watch on the side lines. Inevitably he ends up with both legs in one hole, gets mad and throws a fit. In comes mommy to try and help and there goes Mark filled with rage, flinging himself on the wall, banging his head on the dresser, and throwing himself on the floor.

You may think I am exaggerating Mark’s actions, but alas I am not. I have come to realize that Mark is a very passionate little boy… so giving with his love but watch out for his anger. I also realize that it is hard for him. As he tries to become independent he keeps running into obstacles that end up infuriating him. I know his frustration is a normal part of growing up, but Mark takes his aggravation to the extreme.

The frustration with dressing himself is only one part of the battle that I have to deal with. Mark has also developed the “mine” attitude. Everything now belongs to him, everything has to be done his way, and he wants what he wants when he wants it. Heaven help you if you try to prove him wrong. Besides throwing his tantrums and screaming at the top of his lungs, he will also attack you! He will charge at you with fists balled up and he will punch you. Sometimes I find it humorous to see this tiny, little person trying to make sure you know he is mad, but most times it is annoying.

I was discussing Mark’s behavior with William recently and mentioning how I can’t remember Aidan being so bad. William laughed and called me crazy. He then proceeded to remind me how Aidan was constantly put in time-out because he would scream and act up for the no reason. It got so bad with Aidan that we tried not to go out with him too often because we did not want to deal with his tantrums in public.

I guess I must have conveniently blacked out memories of Aidan’s terrible twos… perhaps to help me deal with round two. Those memories are coming back though. Now whenever Mark goes berserk I have flashbacks of Aidan doing the same thing or something similar.

Thankfully Aidan is almost past the terrible twos stage (every now and then he regresses) and in two years Mark will be coming out of it. The bad new, Caitlin will be starting her terrible twos. Seems like there is no rest for this weary traveler.

Four years from now, if I’ve made it thorough this war with some semblance of my sanity then I believe I deserve an award for surviving six straight years of the terrible twos. Till then, pray for me.

That’s what comes to mind whenever I see Mark getting himself into trouble. The Sinhalese word Chandiya, loosely translated in English, means rouge or street gangster. Okay, by no means is Mark a gangster of any sort but he is definitely a dare devil. This boy has fallen on his head more times than I can count (and definitely more times than Aidan had when he was Mark’s age). Yet he still gets up, and after a short cry and some consoling, repeats the same action that got him hurt in the first place.

Which makes me wonder… Does his age have a role to play in his fearlessness? Do 18 month old infants even understand the concept of fear and/or cause and effect? You think after he falls off the dining chair and hits his head on the tile floor that he would have learned his lesson. Nope, not Mark! Five minutes after taking the fall he climbs right back up on to that exact same dining chair. One time he fell off the chair twice within half an hour. By the second fall, he couldn’t even walk straight. I was so afraid that he had suffered a concussion or something more serious and I kept checking on him throughout the night.

Now you are thinking why don’t I just watch the boy and make sure he doesn’t climb on stuff. Trust me, I watch him. As much as I can, cause I still have my chores to do, in addition to looking after Aidan. That little creature is fast. As soon as I take him off the chair, he climbs right back up again. His latest trick is climbing up the bar stools. This terrifies me cause instead of a foot fall he now has horrible, HORRIBLE, two and a half feet fall onto tile floors. The boy is crazy! So, in an attempt to try and deter him, we have hidden the stools away in the closet. My kitchen now feel empty without the stools cause that’s where hubby and visitors would sit and chat with me while I prepare dinner. Oh well, I’d rather taken the emptiness than have to deal with a trip to the emergency room.

I leave you with a picture of Mark indulging in his newest obsession… teeth brushing. He loves to climb into the sink, turn on the faucet, and chew on his toothbrush.

For an 18 month old, Mark sure does enjoy eating some out of the ordinary things.  For instance, he often comes back from the yard with his face covered in dirt and his mouth filled with mud.  I know eating dirt is not that crazy for a kid his age and that there maybe other babies out there who eat the same.  What’s funny about this is that this dirt usually finds its way into his next dirty diaper which makes for one messy, grainy, clean up.  Recently, William mentioned that he found Mark lying face down on the concrete, trying to suck up the water that comes out of the air conditioner exhaust.  Gross! 

Oh, and Mark has taken to eating ice, a trait he has picked up from his dad (William chews ice almost all day, everyday).  He hands me an empty cup and points to the ice maker.  Once he has gotten his cup of crushed ice, he goes and sits in front of the T.V. happily munching on his cold treat.  It’s amusing how such a simple treat (if it can be called a treat) can please the boy.

And now for the main story…

Mark is often at my feet when I start making dinner, pulling and complaining and hovering… he’s almost comparable to a begging puppy.  On day, in order to appease him and get him out of my way, I gave him half of the lemon that I had just squeezed.  To my surprise he ate it… rind, pits, and all!

All smiles.

In your face.

Pucker up.

What’s left of the lemon!