As I write this, I'm mopping blood from my ears. My skull has split open. My eyes are permanently locked into an expression that would make a sane person wonder if I'd just seen a grizzly bear saunter into my house and eat my cat.
Yep, as the picture at right clearly illustrates, we've entered the screaming stage. As far as I can tell, there are three things that make Wilder scream:
1. A scream of delight. As in, "The kitty looked at me!! ... AGGGGHHHHHHHH!"
2. A scream of displeasure ... i.e. "I will continue to make this noise until daddy gives me his beer! AGGGHHHHHHHHHH!"
And, my personal favorite ...
3. A scream just to scream. "I have recently concluded that I have adjustable volume. AGGGHGGGGHHHHHH!"
(I swear he is screaming at me right now.)
Now I know this is normal. I know that I cannot scream back at him because it only encourages him. I know that his intent is not really to make my head pop off.
But I really, honestly, in that rookie-slash-clueless parent way, that my boy was too cute to scream. "He won't be a screamer," I thought. "Just look at that face. His international appeal would be ruined by acts of random and pointless screaming. He knows that. Nope, not my boy. He won't scream."
God I am the dumbest woman alive sometimes. Oh well.
The books and websites say funny things about coping with a screaming toddler. I'm supposed to say completely ridiculous stuff like, "Honey, use your INDOOR voice." He doesn't even know what "indoor" means. Furthermore, when your mom plays really loud music and sings at the top of her lungs while jumping around the room with you, I think those words would tend to lose a wee bit of their meaning. And I'll be damned if Wilder and I are giving up our aspirations to be future rock stars just so I use asinine phrases such as "indoor voice."
Gotta go. He's working his way up to a bloody good screamfest.
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