She's two.

It's a puppy picnic that Naomi set up
all by herself!

She's two! She's two. She's two...

This is our mantra lately when it comes to sweet, dear, opinionated Naomi. She is dear and sweet--but some of her moods are dearer and more sweet than others. Naomi monitors Biscuit's frequent fevers, "reads," bakes for pretend and for real (kind of), "writes" thank-you notes unprompted ("Dear Elise, thank you for playing." "Dear Mommy, thank you for the cookie,") sings all the words of Twinkle Twinkle and other songs, and generally does all the other things a two-year-old is supposed to do, and looks cute doing it.

But she's two. And when you're two, everything matters, from the socks you're wearing to the toothpaste you squeeze all by yourself onto your toothbrush, with absolutely no help. They matter a lot. And while sometimes Naomi's bluffing when she launches into a major meltdown about one expectation or another not being met, other times she's every bit as upset at not getting to play with the iron as she lets on. Mommy gets to play, why not me?

While Kalina and Elise were away one
day, Naomi and I brought snow inside
and painted it, complete with mittens!

The whole house is wondering things like that as we watch Naomi's demands and emotions at times run wild:
"I want Mommy to put my plate on the table! I don't want Daddy to do it!"
"Where's that thing I was playing with two weeks ago? No really, where is it?"
"I want to keep doing this light switch, and possibly others, for the next ten minutes, whether or not it makes us late to ballet class."
"I want Mommy's lap all to myself."
"Hey, I was planning to ride on that toy car!"
"Read me this. Now read me this. Now read this. And this. And this. And this. And this. You can fix dinner tomorrow. Read."
"Whatever you do, don't read THAT book!!!"
"I can't get this glue open."
"I really, really, really want a cookie for snack."
"I don't want water, I want milk."
"I can't do my zipper!"
"I wanted the purple bowl, not the pink one."
"I want Mommy to put me into the bathtub, not Daddy."
"I wanted to squeeze the toothpaste onto my brush all by myself with no help."
"Biscuit's diaper keeps falling off."
"I finished all the raisins in my cereal and now I want you to get me more, but I don't want to finish the rest of the cereal first."
And so on.

Naomi can cut, paste and
toddler-write like a 3-
year old.

It's exhausting for her; it's exhausting for us. But she's two--so what can you do? We all have our coping strategies. Sometimes I offer hugs. Or if my sympathy is used up for the day, I simply let her be. Elise will often give in and let Naomi have the coveted toy if Naomi simply says please (or "please cheese louise," which Elise will also accept and makes us all smile). Kalina often tries to cheer Naomi up and distract her with humor. I pick my battles very carefully to try to avoid these episodes in the first place. [Rule of thumb: if you're going to give in, do it immediately and make it look like your idea.] And we all might simply put our hands over our ears and try to get on with our lives. Mostly, though, we shrug and tell each other "she's two." And that is enough to explain everything, and also the only explanation we're likely to get.

Once Naomi calms down, which always happens, she's usually pretty reasonable and if we can simply forget that Daddy put the plate on the table instead of Mommy, she might even get some dinner in her.

And I admit that the sadist in me has enjoyed subjecting the big sisters to the odd reasoning skills, emotions and preferences of their two-year-old sister. "You did that when you were her age, except you screamed louder and more shrilly," I patiently remind Elise. "And Kalina, you didn't scream as much, but you did walk across the room and turn your back to me, which sometimes speaks louder than screaming." We've all been two once, and looking back, it's pretty cute. And we all survived the injustice of a cracker with the corner broken off, not being allowed to handle every free sample in the grocery-store tray and the especially fiery torture of Daddy buckling us into our carseat instead of Mommy. Oh the misery!

Fortunately, Kalina and Elise (or should we call her Summer?) are mature enough to reason that a toddler can't be reasoned with very well, as long as I catch their eye and give them an exaggerated wink that means, "Nope, she doesn't make any sense. She's two," before they start freaking out that she's freaking out. Then we share a secret "I'm glad I don't tantrum anymore--most of the time, anyway" smirk and together wait for the storm to pass and the sun to shine again.

It's only fair to point out, though, that although the big sisters don't really tantrum anymore, they certainly aren't past fueling the fire of Naomi's fits, whether they know it or not. Life is hard enough when you're two, and it doesn't get any easier when you have to remember to stay out of one sister's beads and when another one thinks the stuffed puppy you love belongs to her.

But even when Naomi is insisting that the torn-off crayon wrappers be put back on the crayons, trying to walk in the street without holding anyone's hand, frustrated that she can't make a white colored pencil show up on white paper, or annoyed that she can't play the bottom half of the piano while her big sister practices the top half, we wouldn't trade this life with a two-year-old for anything.

Naomi is anything from a happy distraction from school ("But she's just so cute!") to a sweet little person who is increasingly fun to talk to and play with, especially as she follows our social Elise around like a puppy sometimes. And most importantly, she's our little two-year-old, and there's nothing terrible about that!