Seriously. What is the matter with these proto-people? One moment, life is full of rainbows and unicorns and sweetness. Moments later: NOOOOO! DON'T SAY THAT! I DON'T WANT MY GLASS ON THAT SIDE OF THE PLATE! Ka-plooie! (That would be my head exploding.)
If there were a way to quantify the good versus bad moments of the day, I'm sure the total good time would outnumber the bad by a considerable bit. But the bad packs such an emotional wallop that I think I may have whiplash.
I frankly admit that parenting has given me more insight into my character and personality than I'd ever expected. It's not pretty. I have more patience for the daily tedium than I would have guessed, but I have no tolerance for deliberate chaos. None. And (actual shameful confession here) I get angry much more easily than I'm happy about. Pouring water out of the tub, making a mess of food, or (CARDINAL SIN) ruining books... I just can't deal. My composure and patience fly out the window.
The screaming, though. Oh, man. What biological purpose does it serve for offspring to scream at their source of protection? If I were a mama bear, that kid would be sleeping outside the den tonight, let me tell you.
I'm sure there's a perfectly reasonable developmental explanation for what Sarah's going through right now. Maybe something hormonal, because she's acting like a teenager with PMS. I just... someone tell me it won't always be like this. That I won't have to wait until she's in her twenties before she can start acting like a reasonable human being for more than five minutes at a time.
On the plus side, she LOVED her doll, who has been named Ella (after one of Sarah's classmates).