Two is here early...

Unless you have a two year old (and no Drew won't be two until July but the terribleness began several months ago) you wouldn't understand. Bathroom doors must be shut at all times. It's a Wonderland for Drew. Faucets that can be turned on, a toilet to drop toys into and don't get started on all the things he can do with toilet paper. We've lived under the Toddler Regime before. I am all too familiar with it. It involves never opening the pantry doors around Drew. Cereal boxes are drug out, pasta becomes scattered, decisions are made to eat flour. The dishwasher is another arena that I have trouble with. Until I had little boys, I never would have given a thought to the fact that there are wheels in a dishwasher. Not to mention the empty cups that are begging to be filled with water. And knives. It's easier to just get everything I need for meals out when Drew isn't around.
Before you "tsk, tsk," roll your eyes and say to yourself, "just tell the kid NO!" you have to understand that I do tell him "no" for most of the day. Right now our battle is that he wants to get down from the table and walk around with his food like some sort of baby hobo. So for the five meals he has a day we have five mini fits as I pry food out of his hand and explain to him that we only eat at the table. This is what we call a non-negotiable. It can't be done. He also can't wipe his own bottom with wet wipes which is something he is dying to do. He can't drag my bedspread out the front door. Or leave the house without pants on. Or climb on top of my dashboard. And saying no to all of these things causes a piercing scream, then a thud as he throws himself on the ground and anywhere from one minute to ten of crying.
I know there are moms that can exit the park without doing a bye-bye song and dance and then making it into a race. They can leave cheerfully at a moment's notice. Those are the moms with bigger biceps that have an easier time stuffing their kids into car seats, or they have smaller toddlers, or their nerves aren't frayed by excessive weeping. Probably all three.
Not me. You'll catch me in Crest singing show tunes as I zoom my shopping cart past the apples. I say a silent prayer that Drew doesn't notice them because he WILL try to hurl his body out of the cart to get one. I have to be three steps ahead of him.
So, I practice my avoidance techniques when I can so we don't spend the entire day crying. And I know from past experience that willful little boys who start this phase early turn into cheerful two and a half year olds who seldom throw fits and eventually into three and a half year olds who rarely ever have melt downs. I refuse to wish away the next eight months. I refuse to dislike my child and think of him as a Gremlin. I am determined to get along with him as much as possible and enjoy this phase. I remind myself that the same determination he has now will serve him well in the future. And I lay the cereal boxes out the night before. He's worth it.