I’m not going to lie, the terrible twos is a challenge. If anyone tells you different THEY ARE LYING! And just like labour; it’s slow, painful and instantly forgettable.

The terrible twos is filled with tears, tantrums and now tiaras. Yes, Olivia has turned from the good girl on the block to Nikki Grahame (Big Birthday circa 2006). I can hear my Mum in my conscious saying “well who does this remind you of”. I’m pretty sure she means Niki Grahame, as I was angel.

The shouty-screaming outbursts have driven us both to making our excuses and deliberating scheduling time out of ‘family time’ so we don’t have to equally suffer the melt downs. For instance, G has booked a walking weekend. A walking weekend!!! I mean WTF. The smell of desperation has never been more apparent.

Last night after tea, I retreated to the lounge and hid behind my laptop whilst G did bathtime. Within 5 minutes, I could hear Nikki Grahame bellowing “Mummy” at million decibels. She has a set of lungs on her (I say that in my coarse Essex Accent). I continued to “work”, pretending to zone out (I’ve learnt that skill from my husband). Furiously tapping away on my laptop, hoping she would miraculously turn into my cat Nancy. Who is as you would expect, quiet & unassuming. But no, Nikki is not Nancy and she has the rage.

So I topped my wine glass up a little more and prayed she was ready for an early night. Thankfully on our reunion, a cuddle and an audio book gave us a moment of peace. We were all quietly rejoicing ……until Finley decided she was unusually silent so resumed operation ‘wind up’. We ran out of wine, shouty shouty waaah waaah continued and I’m looking walking weekend of my own.

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