It’s been a long two days. Very, very long. Temper tantrums galore. Usually, they amuse me. Robbie slowly sits down on the floor, looks behind him, and lays down – all while screaming loudly and checking to make sure I’m watching. And then he does it. He starts banging his head on the floor. Repeatedly.
Lately, though, they haven’t been quite so entertaining. This is probably because Rob and I have been on our own for five days now, and the temper tantrums have occurred daily. Actually, it’s often two or three times a day. In the morning, after he’s changed and I dare put him down to finish getting dressed myself. When I pick him up from daycare and he has to stop playing and put his coat on to go home with his terrible mother. At the gym when he has to play in the kid’s area while I run (although, lately, he’s gotten better about this; today he quietly played for the full 70 minutes!). And then at home when dinner isn’t just what he wanted or I dare put him in the bathtub. Last night, he screamed like a banshee when I picked him up and tried to put him in the tub. It took five minutes to get him in (I know I should pick my fights, but he was filthy). When I did, he screamed like I was pouring boiling water over him instead of the then tepid water.
I wound up getting Robbie up before I went to bed last night. I brought him in bed to cuddle with me, to let me have a few nice moments with him. He didn’t wake up, but he did move around to snuggle a little closer to me. I tried to keep those moments in mind this morning when the meltdowns of Day Five kicked in. Literally. I got kicked in the face at 7:07 this morning and didn’t respond well to it. Fortunately, tempter-tantrum-having-toddlers tend to quickly forgive their temper-tantrum-having mothers.