Terribe TWOs

Date:                           August 29, 2010


Location:                    Plattekill, NY




            I awoke this morning and I will go to work this afternoon.  After an evening of dealing with a cacophony of different personalities, I will come home, have a snack and go to bed sometime after midnight.  It is from and exciting life of this tenor I am supposed to find excitement enough to produce a blog of some interest.  On some days this is a bit of a challenge, on most days this is almost an impossibility.  Yet, here I sit, my keyboard awaiting and an eager public anxiously anticipating my prose.  Well, at least my keyboard is waiting.


            There are many mornings when I awake and have a very driving urge to expound on my past evening’s excursion into the world of the terrible two’s.  Every parent has nightmare memories of the time their little angle turned two years old and finally realized that they may not be the center of the universe.  Until the age of two, or so, most children raised in a loving home are truly the center of their own universe.  With each whimper or urgent scream of the little munchkin an angle of mercy arrives at their side and satisfies the trauma of the moment.  A new diaper or a warm bottle of milk magically arrives or maybe it is just a comfortable hug and moment of attention that is needed.  Up until the approximate age of two this is the normal path of life and then the little munchkin turns two years old and finds out that there is a real world beyond the edge of the crib.


            This time of life called “the Terrible Twos” is a normal and expected stage in growing up.  The two year old is supposed to learn that they are part of a bigger whole, and that everything in the universe does not really revolve around their own personal desires.  At two, this concept of being the center of the know universe is expected and understandable.  At twenty-two, or thirty-two or sixty-two years old a person should have realized that whining and screaming to get their own desires addressed at the cost of everyone else is wrong.  Sometime between the age of two and sixty-two a person should grow up.  I am not sure that this has always happened.  I am sadly reminded of this opinion nearly everyday as I attempt to deal with the public and the parade of two year old brats that have aged but certainly not grown up or matured. 


            It is most pleasurably a fact that not everyone is still wallowing in the temperament of a two year old brat.  Many people are considerate and caring of other people and other people’s concerns and yet the pain of dealing with the aged two year olds seems to punctuate my evening much stronger than the few, but appreciated, pleasant adults we encounter.  Maybe I just need to refocus my attention.  Maybe I need to treat two year old mentality with adult temperament.  Maybe I need to do this, but when the terrible two year old brat is well past puberty, over sized in height and weight it is most difficult.  It is nearly impossible to ignore an arrogant, impolite bellowing behemoth screaming at you as you are trying to please a long line of needy customers.  “To hell with everyone else that got here before I did.  I want my fudge now and I am not going to wait my turn.  I am the most important person in the world.”  I almost expected the slightly over weight bully to lie on the floor and start kicking their feet in the air.  How can a person jump aboard the aging train and ignore the maturing car?  The terrible twos syndrome is alive and running amuck in society.


            Sometimes my blog is about the travels and adventures my wife and I enjoy on our sojourn through life and sometimes I must vent. Both the adventures and explorative experiences of our nomadic life define our lives.  We are also defined by the interaction and experiences of the people we meet as we walk through the streets of our lives.  We have met and enjoyed smiles and warmth of many wonderful people, but the angst of a screaming brat seems to always leave the sharpest scar.  Eventually the temper tantrum of the terrible two year old immaturity will fade and the smile of appreciation will rise to the top of our memory.  Eventually my wife and I will venture off on a new adventure and my desire to vent will fade.  And then again there is always the news and my boiling frustration with political leaders that can neither lead nor show any care for the public that they have promised to serve.  But that is for another morning of boredom and lacking adventure to report on my blog. I must go throw a tantrum now.  Some people do it in public and some people do it by means of a  blog.