Sometimes, nesting with a toddler is like living with a drunk: stumbling and crashing all over the place; an excess of extreme emotions; lightning fast mood changes from sunny to psychotic. And back again. Thus it was today - a day on which Sam chose to grace us with his most charming, smiley and all-round adorable self for the entire morning, starting from the very moment he opened his eyes. Presumably he'd had a great night. But with a suddenness that was head-spinning, as he (presumably) decided his lunch was overdue, he pitched headlong into a quite demented and deafening squeaky-scream. Or was it a series of squeaks and screams ? Or perhaps a screamy squeak ? Or a squeam ? How do you define all these baby noises ?
He'd been limbering up for this in recent days while staying chez the grandparents, where I noticed this strange and disconcerting new noise beginning to emerge. But that was just the preamble; what we got today was like something out of the Omen, and the worst part was that nothing seemed to sate or salve his ear-splitting anger - certainly not the food he was hurriedly being given. Was it yet another manifestation of the winter lurgy that has been plaguing us all ? As ever, we don't know anything for sure but must instead presume and suppose and speculate.
All we do know is that, with food consumed and post-prandial nap taken while on his daily constitutional, the now almost 15-month-old bambino mercifully slipped back into his more benign self as the day wound down, finally ending as he'd begun: cute and cuddly.
Is this the dawning of yet another new phase ? The "terrible twos" come early ? (Even though they're supposed to be a myth or misnomer, or even a mythnomer.) No doubt many will tell me it's perfectly normal and signals his growing desire to communicate. Whatever it is or isn't, I'm no longer holding my breath for an explanation, having finally twigged that in this surreal land called parenthood, abnormal is the new normal.
Still, living with a "drunk" often makes you want to reach for the bottle yourself. Either that or watch some more Family Guy, featuring crazed megalomaniac baby Stewie.
He'd been limbering up for this in recent days while staying chez the grandparents, where I noticed this strange and disconcerting new noise beginning to emerge. But that was just the preamble; what we got today was like something out of the Omen, and the worst part was that nothing seemed to sate or salve his ear-splitting anger - certainly not the food he was hurriedly being given. Was it yet another manifestation of the winter lurgy that has been plaguing us all ? As ever, we don't know anything for sure but must instead presume and suppose and speculate.
All we do know is that, with food consumed and post-prandial nap taken while on his daily constitutional, the now almost 15-month-old bambino mercifully slipped back into his more benign self as the day wound down, finally ending as he'd begun: cute and cuddly.
Is this the dawning of yet another new phase ? The "terrible twos" come early ? (Even though they're supposed to be a myth or misnomer, or even a mythnomer.) No doubt many will tell me it's perfectly normal and signals his growing desire to communicate. Whatever it is or isn't, I'm no longer holding my breath for an explanation, having finally twigged that in this surreal land called parenthood, abnormal is the new normal.
Still, living with a "drunk" often makes you want to reach for the bottle yourself. Either that or watch some more Family Guy, featuring crazed megalomaniac baby Stewie.
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