Terrible two -- or is it four?
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“What number is this?” I ask holding up a round puzzle piece with a four on it.
“Two!” Lincoln says confidently.
“Two? Are you sure?” I ask trying not to wreck his confidence this early in his life.
“Yes! Two!”
“No, it’s not two. What number?” I ask KNOWING he knows it’s a four.
“Two!”
“Um…it’s four.”
“NO! TWO!”
“No, Linc,” I say. “This is a two,” I explain holding up the piece with the two.
“Yes,” he says, “and, that’s a two,” he says pointing to the four.
I get that he’s a toddler, but I KNOW HE KNOWS WHAT A FOUR IS! He’s just being, well, two! (Hmmm, isn’t that ironic?) We’ve had similar disagreements over colors, shapes, the names of pets, etc. recently.
I understand resistance during dinner time, bath time, and bed time. No one wants to do that stuff, but to argue about something like a number or color? I don’t get it.
How come he wants to fight with me about that? He knew what a four was the day before. I’m assuming it’s one of those evil phases since it just started (and will hopefully end soon so I can stop worrying that important stuff like this is falling out of his head).
Erin Hill is a first-time mom to Lincoln, who was born in January 2010. She's learning as she goes and is experiencing everything a new mom goes through while seeing the humor, irony, and enjoyment in her adventures.
Erin is a full-time technical writer and features freelance writer in her "spare time." She lives in Plum with Lincoln, her husband, Adam, their dog, Roxie, and five (yes, five) cats, Nirvana, Gary Roberts, Elvis, Talbot and Forrest.