And she knows what she wants.

Me: Ok, ok, that's enough. No more hitting.

Baby girl completely ignores my polite, but stern (see: best mom voice) request and curls her tiny fingers in a ball and pounds the middle of her brother's back.  Like, really?!

Me: Alright, that's it. You are having a time out.

I swiftly lift her in my arms, pigtails and arms equally flailing, and put her on the very well-worn, well-known, well-used bottom step.

Baby girl: No mama, nooooo!!!

Her back arches, she squints her eyes, tears line her cheeks.

She's upset. But not for long. Her (nearly) 2 year old brain will remember this for exactly eight seco....aaaand now it's forgotten. Yep, she's laughing. She's coldly laughing and rolling on the floor. She's coldly laughing,  rolling on the floor and begins yelling, "go back and play" at the top of her lungs. Even the dog looks at her with an unimpressed, "oh no you didn't" look. Jesus, like a warrior returning to battle, she runs back to the living room. Oh, hell.
Have I done something really wrong here? Should I trust her around blunt objects? Just who am I raising?


Am I recreating my not so distant past? Because I remember putting my first, my sleeping wonder, on the "time out step" approximately 5 times when he was 2 years old. It's only 10:30 am and baby girl has occupied that spot no less than half a dozen times. I appreciate her feistiness. Really, I do. She is my spirited, independent, funny little girl and believe me, there is nothing I would want  more than for my baby to grow up knowing she can defend herself, that she is strong, that she can get whatever she wants. Except right now she wants her brother's car and she will pinch and hit until it is hers. (for his part, the sleeping wonder takes this all in stride and politely asks her to stop. Or he cries. There's a lot of tears in our house.)

I knew having two would lend itself to a whole new set of challenges (see: losing my mind). Being the eldest of three, I know the kind of fighting that occurs between siblings, I just hadn't anticipated how EARLY this would begin (a detail my mother kindly forgot to mention.) Baby girl is vocal (like, can already yell in your face kind of vocal) and really, it has taken our family for a bit of a surprise. I can't say I'm not a little proud of this super go get' em attitude; I just wish it was a little less, oh, violent.

In the meantime, I struggle for an appropriate response. I yell (which c'mon, is rarely effective), I talk, I rationalize, I reason. There really doesn't seem to be anything concrete that works. She's two, she's the second child. Right, I know, but I can't help but think somehow I am responsible for her tiny fists of fury. She is my sweetest of girls and when she shows joy, and love, and happiness it is all rainbows and cotton candy. But when she turns, she turns fast and be warned, those little pinches hurt.