We grandparents survived ‘Terrible Twos,’ those crying toddlers you can hand back to their parents . The Twos grow a year and become ‘Tantrum Threes.’ Also ‘Talking Threes’ when histrionics fail them.
Diane Hughes read our previous blog about words from the mouth of babes. She’s an essayist in New Hampshire, not a blogger in Indiana, who sent this story I’m repeating.
Allison was two years old and shopping with her dad at a Navy Exchange. She tired of it. Dad was not quite ready to leave so she wandered off a ways, threw herself down on the floor and began screaming and kicking in a faked tantrum.
Her dad rushed over, looked down and said “Damn it, Allison, what do you think you are doing?’” She looked back up at him in amazement at his question, and whispered, “I’m screaming!”
She had a very definite way of handling or ignoring instruction and later reported that for a few years, she thought her name was, ‘Damn it, Allison’.”
Diane’s story reminded me of three-year-old Malia. When our family of five went sight-seeing in the Washington state mountains, we took turns carrying granddaughter Malia who proclaimed, “I’m tired of all this walking.” Other complaints included food, drink, climbing, our singing.
When her parents were loading the station wagon for our return to Seattle, I sat on one of several boulders that ringed the motel. Malia arrived and demanded, “Granddad, I want to sit on that rock!”
What do you say to a girl named Malia? I said, “Get your own rock.”
Amazed, she found her own rock. And still remembered recently when the Southern Cal communications graduate called from Melbourne where she writes and researches. Told me she may find her ‘own rock’ in the Australian Outback.
Photo by Public Domain Pictures from Pixabay
