Toddlers, Tantrums, and Time outs

That's what I should rename this blog: Toddlers, Tantrums, and Time Outs.  That's what my life consists of at the moment.  A cute little rambunctious toddler.  He runs everywhere.  He loves the sound his shoes make on the hard wood floors so he really stomp runs, and then runs in place once he's gotten to his destination.  A toddler who thinks he's invincible and has no fear.  He wants to climb.  He wants to jump.  He wants to climb up and then jump.  He's covered head to toes in bruises.

The cute little toddler mentioned above disappears in an instant when he's not getting his way.  Just try to remove him from the park before he is ready to leave.  Gaaah.  It's like he's tapped into every fear I have: being stared at, judged, and loud noises.  First, the 100th percentile head is thrown back with such force it's a blessing he hasn't knocked him self out.  Then, here come the jello legs and arms.  There's no way to pick him up without some sort of awkward chase. Wait for it...what's next... a cry, right?  It's not a cry with tears.  It's not a stomp of the foot.  It's a piercing shriek.  I don't know another way to describe it.  He inhales and shrieks at the top of his lungs until his lips turn blue, and then he repeats.  Meanwhile, every eye is on me.  How will I react?  Am I responding appropriately?  Am I torturing my son?  Should they call police?  

Time Outs.  Wow.  Who would have ever thought that a time out could be so painful?  Again - our kiddo plays us like a fiddle.  We started time outs around his first birthday when you could see him making willful choices not to listen.  He sits in the kitchen and the microwave timer counts down his 60 seconds of torture.  He has several different techniques to combat the time out.  Sometimes he just cries (not the shriek mentioned above - that's only saved for company or public outings when we are at our weakest).  The guilt trip (he's half Georgian after all)...he will yell "why" or my heart wrenching favorite "love you" the full 60 seconds.  The cute diversion.  He'll sit there happily and try to sneak into the living room.  Once eye contact is made, he will give you the best smile ever and wave and say, "hi."  

Apparently he's advanced for his age - he started the terrible two's around 1.5 years.  Maybe they should add that to the chart they give you at the pediatricians office?

What's this magical ice with bright colors and a spoon all of my own?

Might need two hands to tackle this miracle from above.

It's all gone?!?!  Why?!?!  Why?!?!?!