A month ago, I ran into a former coworker
- literally ran as I was out for a run -
who was aghast to find out Aaron was almost 4
("I met you when you were pregnant!")
and then proceeded to tell me how much he loved the 4 age
and every day tells his 11 year old daughter how he wishes she could be 4 again.
Well guess what?
IT'S ALL LIES.
IT IS NOT THE FABULOUS 4s.
IT IS THE FUCKING AWFUL 4s.
The tantrums that were supposed to magically melt away have not done so.
True, they may be slightly fewer between,
but they continue with a particular new level of aggression.
Example: The Two Hour Tantrum
Last week, Aaron threw a two hour tantrum.
As in, he was in his room for TWO HOURS THROWING SHIT.
My sister, who had been babysitting when this tantrum commenced,
texted me: "You may need a new bedroom door."
To which I replied: "Might be easier to just get a new child."
When I arrived home, I removed everything from his room.
Every possible movable object.
And still the tantrum continued.
Finally, at the end of 2 hours while I was nursing Oliver to bed,
Aaron came quietly into Oliver's room,
sat in the rocker next to me,
and held me hand.
It was pretty sweet.
Good thing too, because I was about to submit the up-for-adoption papers.
A few days later, I asked the pediatrician at his 4-month checkup:
"When do the tantrums stop?"
And she looked at me with a smirk and say: "Age 18 when they move out."
At least someone is honest!