A. is my two-year-old.
He is his own Type A. A could be for awesome - he can be awesomely sweet. He is awesomely smart. He has an awesome vocabulary. A can also be for awful - he's (still) a total awful nightmare at mealtimes. I used to love family meals. Now I sort of dread them. He screams and screams and cries until I want to scream and cry too. But I don't. Because I. Am. The. Adult. (Repeat 4 times.) A could be for aggravating - he sure knows how to push those buttons. He hits buttons I didn't even know I had. But I try to remain calm because I. Am. The. Adult. A could be for absolute - he's the most all or nothing kid I've ever been around. It's either 100% wonderful or 100% the pits.
A. screamed for a solid hour during dinner tonight. Then ate about a tbsp. of dried cherries dipped in sour cream.
A. is my two-year-old. He is going through the Terrible Twos in textbook fashion. I will live through this year and I will be a better mom and person for it. But right now? I feel like I'm the worst mom ever.