Tuesday Trials

Ramekin started the day rather ornery, and I could tell nothing was going to go well right off the bat. He whined when he got up about not being allowed to watch the Bear in the Big Blue House DVD; he complained when Baby Boo-Baaa wanted to play with 'his' toys; he moaned about the cut up banana in his cereal, something he requested I might add, and attempted to scoop it all of out of the bowl with his fingers. So breakfast ended rather quickly...and messily...and I sent him up the stairs so we could all get ready to go out.

I quickly followed with Baby Boo-Baaa in tow, only to find him stretched out sideways on the top step of the stairs with a big grin. I roll down? he asked hopefully.

I only wish I was kidding.

After suggesting he was more than a little insane and herding him off of the stairway, I then got the three of us ready to go out to this morning's playgroup. And it wasn't long after our arrival before I reminded myself that you have to say what you mean and mean what you say, or else you'll never be taken seriously by your two year old.

So when Ramekin started shriekily demanding more biscuits (No, you've had your biscuit); demanding loudly that 'Mommy not talk' to the other moms repeatedly; and then started just acting up and screaming in frustration over perceived slights, I had to haul him out and plunk his butt on a makeshift naughty seat in an adjacent hallway. I told him in no uncertain terms that we would be going home if there was any more whining, screaming, hitting, or other assorted naughty behaviour.

He seemed to understand, so after a couple of minutes, we went back in where they were setting up several water tables for the kids to play with. This is a particular favorite activity of Ramekin's (this playgroup does it once every eight weeks or so), so I thought the final half hour would pass smoothly.

It was not to be. When I pulled off his t-shirt so he could play with the water tables, just like I always do, he went nuts, screaming for me to put his shirt back on and trying to pull it out of my hands. So, I told him that was it, we were going home.

Needless to say, Ramekin did not like this decision one.little.bit, and starting fighting me when I went to put his shirt back on. So, once again, I hauled his obnoxious little butt into the hallway and plunked it back on the naughty spot. While he screamed his head off from 'the spot', I collected Baby Boo-Baaa, who had been snoozing in the stroller in a corner, our jackets, and returned to a very unhappy Ramekin who was now sobbing about wanting to play with the water tables.

I reminded myself that you have to say what you mean, and mean what you say, and in spite of my wanting to chat a bit with my friends and to let a now wide-awake Baby Boo-Baaa roam the room a bit, I knew I had to follow through on my threat.

So home we went.

I've never, ever had to do leave a playgroup early for poor behavior on Ramekin's part. Never. And I've only had to make use of a naughty spot at a playgroup once prior to today. He's usually pretty well behaved in public for a two year old.

Once home, Ramekin was ordered to his room where he finally shreiked and sobbed himself to sleep for an hour. The first nap he's had in several weeks, I might add. I finally rousted him, fed him, and took him to nursery where he was reportedly 'Happy and very well behaved, as usual.'

Figures.

It also figures that within ten minutes of getting home --ten minutes!-- he landed himself back on the naughty step for very poor behavior. And once again, ten minutes after that. And while sitting on said naughty step the second time, I heard him start yelling 'Don't laugh at me! No! Don't laugh at me! DON'T LAUGH AT ME!'

As I was in the kitchen preparing his dinner, I had no idea who he thought was laughing at him. So I went into the hallway to investigate . . . just in time to see him running at Baby Boo who was across the room on the floor beaming at him, arm outstretched, clearly at the ready to bop him on the head.

Yes, Ramekin thought the ever-smiling Baby Boo-Baaa was laughing at his predicament. He had no clue that Baby Boo-Baaa was only smiling at him because he was paying attention to him (even if said attention was in the form of yelling).

Sigh.

Luckily, my immediately shouting 'RAMEKIN!', prevented Baby Boo-Baaa from getting whacked in the head and caused Ramekin to high tail it back to the naughty step where he was required to remain for quite a bit longer, hopefully thinking about all the reasons it's wrong to hit baby brothers.

But I doubt it.

And G probably wonders why I practically threw the boys at him and announced 'I quit!' when he finally turned up this evening.

Please tell me I'm not alone with a terrible two. Please....?

Double sigh.