The terrible twos always start early

I’m sure every parent of a child between 18 months and 2 years I have ever met has talked, usually with a note of hysteria in their voice, about how the terrible twos have come early to their house. I remember saying it myself with Rosemary. Well, now I do, because the memory fades (just like the memory of labour – so that the human race doesn’t die out). And the other parents kindly pushing Eleanor’s buggy or carrying Rosemary’s scooter* up the hill to school for me, while I cajole a determined Eleanor away from the road, from the ramp down to the church hall, from yet another person’s driveway, talk (the relief that they are past this particular stage palpable, as they make a mental note to check the renewal date on their contraceptive implant) of their memories of this stage and how they really, really don’t miss it.

Of course, we know logically what’s going on – the growing desire for independence, warring on one front with the physical inability to do so many of the things they want, the inability to fully communicate on another and the confusing feelings of separation anxiety on another. Who wouldn’t throw themselves to the ground and kick and scream when assaulted by all of that? But knowing why doesn’t always help us solve the problems for our children, or indeed prevent us from tearing our hair out in despair.

Some of the things I struggle with include:

• climbing on the table and throwing everything to the floor (the commonest item being pens; luckily we have so far avoided any broken crockery)
• climbing out of her buggy or refusing to hold my hand or making a sudden dash for the road
• insisting on going down the stairs first
• taking her nappy off
• asking to go to the loo, then just putting the seat down and flushing the chain
• washing her hands again and again and again
• shutting every single door she possibly can before going anywhere
• insisting on getting herself dressed (coupled with an inability to manage it 80% of the time).

The trouble is, most of these things she actually needs to do in order to learn and develop her skills and abilities. She’s not going to learn to get dressed without trying to dress herself; she’s not going to become potty (or toilet, since she shows roughly zero interest in the potty) trained unless she gets to keep her nappy off for periods and go to the loo, whether she needs to or not. She’s not going to master the stairs without being given the opportunity to go down them without someone watching her every move. And, while her door-shutting and hand-washing rituals seem worryingly close to OCD, routines and repetitions are essential learning tools.

But, oh boy, does it still drive me completely round the bend! I find myself shouting ‘No!’ far too often, when I should be coming up with some novel distraction or removing the dangerous object from her reach (sadly the petition to ban all cars and lorries from the roads is not going well, but at least I have managed, at last, to move the stain removers and fabric conditioner from under the sink).

Really, I just need to count to 10 more (instead of 3) and take some deep breaths (instead of gritting my teeth). I should probably be a better role model and stop stomping my feet and sulking, too. I need to chill out a bit more and let her get on with it. Though I think I’ll still pick her up if she’s running into the road.

How have you dealt with the pre-terrible-twos – or the terrible twos themselves, or threes… ? Do you have a bunch of strategies and manage to remain calm and collected or are you permanently at the end of your tether and counting the hours until wine (or chocolate) o’clock?

* Why exactly she insists on taking her scooter to school at every possible opportunity when she only rides it for about 10% of the route, and falls off and hurts herself about 90% of the time she’s actually riding it, I really couldn’t say.