It’s clearly a survival mechanism. I don’t think the species would have survived without that adaptation. The 2-year-old spent big chunks of the weekend attempting to destroy things, or hurt himself or others. He is still waking up at 5:30 a.m. quite frequently, which is maddening (he did that Friday and Sunday, which were my days). We have put black-out shades on the windows to help with the summer solstice early sun, but to no avail. He also has a clock that turns green at 6 a.m., indicating it is time to get up. He does not care. He stands by the door howling “Open the door!” until someone comes.
There is no one thing that stands out, it’s just a lot of stuff. We have a mulberry tree by our driveway that’s dropping ridiculous quantities of fruit. The rest of us try to avoid the berries, but he trudges right into them, and then wants to keep his shoes on when he goes in the house, dragging purple juice everywhere. He wants to play with the hose, and of course after getting all muddy this afternoon he dove right into the pile of sheets I’d just washed. He pulled his sister’s hair hard. My husband was watching him in the backyard, went to get something, and returned to find him vanished. Where he’d gone? Eight feet up a tree. He pulled all the plastic plates out of the bottom drawer. He ate the marshmallows straight out of the bag of Lucky Charms (meaning no one else wants to eat the cereal now — because the proportion of Charms is pretty lackluster). He started plucking all the soon-to-bloom buds of the hydrangeas (with the explanation “because they’re green!” I guess green flowers must be heeded, but not green clocks…) He opened all my chapsticks and smeared them on his face. He tried to break my sunglasses. He tried to break his brother’s tennis equipment.
On the plus side, he didn’t demand I watch the Adventures of Chuck and Friends, so that’s something.
Actually, as I look back on the weekend, there were good things. That’s the upside of tracking time. I know that I read for a few hours, finishing the novel Lila (by Marilynne Robinson). I ran both days, as I do, though only 1.3 miles on Saturday. Sunday I got a good 5+ miles in, and it felt great. We went for a family bike ride on Saturday and the 2-year-old was relatively chill in the Burley (at least I didn’t hear him shrieking). He skipped his nap Saturday, but took a long one Sunday, so I read a book I needed to for work out on the back porch. Because he skipped his nap Saturday, he went to bed relatively early, and we had a nice dinner in the calm after. My husband made mussels with white wine and garlic cream sauce. So I can’t tell the story that I spent the whole weekend chasing the toddler. It felt like it — but feelings aren’t the same thing as reality.