We don't care about sleep.

Me: Good lord, he's possessed!

Husband: C'mon baby, let daddy help you.

Baby: NO!!!!

Baby then hurls his body to the ground (without any regard to his own personal safety,narrowly missing the change table), covers his eyes, and violently kicks the air.

Me: My,oh,my. Come here, little one. Mama can help you.

Baby lifts his head,and for a moment I think he might spit pea soup at me whilst his head begins to spin.

Me: Fine, you can put your own diaper on if it matters that much.

Hell hath no fury compared to a near 2 year old who wants nothing more than to do everything himself. And when I say everything, I mean EVERYTHING. While this whole independence thing is pretty cute at first, "Awww....look,he wants to put on his own sock," that sentiment quickly fades as baby won't wear said socks unless he puts them on himself-not so cute at all when the temperature outside is -22, it's 7am and you had to be in the car for daycare 5 minutes ago. Ya, not cute at all.

What's worse than these major outbursts is that even in all it's dramatic form, at the height of the screaming, and the crying, and the hysterics, baby can just as quickly stop at the whisper of "Elmo," or "Would you like a drink?" Just like that, baby says a sniffly, "Ya," and proceeds to head to the kitchen. Whoa. And the Oscar goes to......

Wilder than even that, is baby's nonsensical rambling as he is in full blown hysteria. Words, barely intelligibly said often include, "Soother, bunny, Mama, Nana, bath, water, Charlie, socks, TV, banana, yellow," and well, any number and combination of words that he knows. It's as if he is doing a verbal reminder of all the vocabulary he learned that week. That in and of itself is pretty damn funny. You know, except for the thrashing and kicking and stuff.

So what do we do to help ease the frustration of a tantrum? No really, what the eff do we do? So far, we have waited him out, or have sung a song or two. Often times, these moments are pretty ill-timed so we take hold of the socks, literally, and put those little feet in, much to a very pissed off little boy. I don't suppose there's much to do with a boy battling to grow up, and a mom who desperately still wants to help him with those little socks.