“She started it!”

“Don’t tell me what to do!”

No, you go away!”

All things you would expect to hear from a two-and-a-half year old, right? That would be par for the Terrible Two course, right?

Ah, but you would be wrong. So very, very wrong.

These are three things that my husband has pointed out today that I have said. To my toddler daughter.

That’s right, my name is Melissa, and I am apparently a toddler going through the Terrible Twos.

In all honestly, the first one is perfectly acceptable to have said, and when I said it, I was talking to my husband, who was refereeing a game of bounce-the-ball-off-of-Pea’s-head-in-retaliation-for-pegging-mommy-in-the-head-
with-it-just-a-minute-earlier.

And the second one? I can’t stand to be told what to do by anyone. Most of all, a two-year old tyrant.

And the last one? Pea told me to go away, all the while waving her hand in my face in the universal “no more” wave. That was irritating. So, I gave as good as I got.

I’m not necessarily proud of these things. Although, I am proud that I didn’t yell or melt down or anything really damaging like that. But I am aware that I should, really, for the sake of all involved, but mostly for my own integrity, work on relating to my daughter in a perhaps more mature way, you know? Because in hindsight, whoa. I am thirty-five years old. Time to act it.