Two

Peanut has become, undeniably, a two year old. She's been 2 since the end of February, but oh my goodness have the proverbial "Terrible Twos" arrived in full force. This is new for me. My other kids didn't hit terribleness until they were three.

"Peanut, you want a peanut butter sandwich?"

"NO!"

"You want a banana?"

"Yeah!" Hands clapping; we love bananas.

Until the receipt of actual banana.

"Noooooo! I want buttah sammich!"

"You want a peanut butter sandwich?"

Sobbing toddler "Yeah."

"But you said you wanted a banana"

"NO! NO 'NANA! BUTTAH SAMMICH!" this is accompanied by a move I call "The Starfish", where she throws herself down onto the floor arms and legs splayed out, like, duh, a starfish.

"Oh my! That's not so good." and experienced Mommy walks away. I don't give in to tantrums.

Once she realizes Mommy has moved on, she picks herself up off the floor, but only glares at the banana I left on the counter. She is almost as stubborn as her mama. Almost.

"I hungwy" she says, sidling up to me in the most pathetic manner.

"You want your banana?"

"No!" This time I get the arm cross and the pissy little head tilt.

"OK then." I turn back to my TV program.

"I want milk!" she decides to forgo the food battle and ask for a drink instead.

"What do you say?"

"Peeeeeease!"

"Oh, very nice. I'll get you some milk."

"I want chocowit milk"

"No, no chocolate milk. Just white milk."

"NO!" accompanied by an angry little dance. "CHOCOWIT MILK!!!!"

"White milk or nothing."

"NO!"

"OK, no milk then." and I put the jug back in the refrigerator.

She considers this for a moment, then spies the offending banana again "I hungwy."

"You want your banana?"

"NO!" arms crossed, chin up, angry stare in place. "I want buttah sammich!"

"Eat your banana and then you can have a sandwich."

"NO! NO 'NANA!"

"You know what? NAP TIME!" Mommy is done.

"NO! NO NIGHT-NIGHT! NO NIGHT-NIGHT!"

"Yes. One day you will learn, one way or the other, Mommy always wins. Goodnight, Peanut!" She is deposited in her crib.

"NO!"

"Yes." I say and close her door.

Round One goes to Mommy. There will, I'm sure, be many, many more rounds.

I've always said age three is worse than age two.

I am afraid of Peanut's age three. Very, very afraid.