Surviving Mitchell’s Terrible Twos

Hey there, fellow caretakers. Let’s be real - today was INTENSE.

Mitchell, my adorable little tornado of energy, is deep in the throes of his terrible twos, and wow, does that phrase suddenly make SO much sense. When people used to tell me about the “terrible twos,” I thought it was just a cute saying. Spoiler alert: it’s not cute. It’s survival.

Today at daycare was like running an emotional and physical obstacle course with a tiny, unpredictable drill sergeant who speaks in a mix of gibberish, demands, and occasional ear-piercing screams.

Want to know what “no” sounds like about 247 times in a single day? Spend a day with Mitchell.

This morning started with a meltdown because his banana was “too yellow” (I’m still trying to understand that logic). Then came the epic battle of putting on shoes - an activity that apparently requires the negotiation skills of a UN diplomat and the patience of a saint.

Lunch was a masterclass in chaos. One moment he wanted the blue spoon, the next moment the blue spoon was THE WORST THING IN THE UNIVERSE. Cue dramatic throwing of said blue spoon across the room.

Nap time? More like “let’s see how many ways I can avoid actually sleeping” time. I swear this kid has more negotiation tactics than most corporate lawyers.

By 3 PM, I was running on caffeine, willpower, and pure parental love. My energy levels were somewhere between “completely depleted” and “is resurrection possible?”

But here’s the thing - and parents, you know exactly what I’m talking about - despite the chaos, the screaming, the multiple outfit changes, and the sheer unpredictability, I wouldn’t trade this for anything.

Those moments when Mitchell looks at me and gives me that pure, unfiltered smile? When he randomly decides to give me a hug? Those moments make every challenging second worth it.

So yeah, I’m exhausted. My muscles ache. My patience has been tested in ways I never knew possible. But I’m also incredibly, deeply in love with this tiny human who is learning to navigate the world.

To all the caretakers out there in the trenches of the terrible twos: I see you. I feel you. We’re in this together.

Stay strong. Stay caffeinated. And remember - this phase is temporary. (Please tell me it’s temporary.)

Surviving and thriving,
Trevor