The livewire turns two today.
All I can say is, good luck world.
May God help us all, particularly if the Terrible Twos tag is anything to go by.
We could well be in for a bumpy ride ahead.
So if you spot him in the same shop as you, it may be advisable to vacate the premises immediately, for your own safety.
If the experts are to be believed, he’s now likely to be only seconds from rolling around on the floor, having a meltdown simply because we won’t let him hold the bleach, a new set of kitchen knives or some other life-endangering item.
I really can’t wait.
I’ve noticed there’s many negative associations with two-year-olds, but very few positive.
You never hear anyone say ‘Terrific Twos’ or ‘Truly Tremendous Twos’, do you?
I guess there must be good reason for that, as Kerrie and I will no doubt discover over the next challenging 12 months.
I’ve done a little research on what to expect when your little one reaches their second birthday.
In short, it doesn’t make for overly uplifting reading.
Apparently tantrums, oppositional behaviour and all-round moodiness are all heading our way.
Well, that’ll be fun.
Fun to look back on in twenty years I mean.
To be fair, the above describes me first thing on a Monday morning when the alarm goes off.
I’m opposed to getting out of bed and generally have a tantrum halfway through my journey to the office.
That’s usually when I realise I’ve forgotten something or discover I’ve put my trousers on back to front.
In all honesty, with all his antics, the little man has been playing the part of a two-year-old for the last year anyway.
I feel like we’re pretty well prepared for the storm that’s hurtling towards us.
At least it’s now only 16 years until he can buy me a pint.
Mind you, they’ll be about £10 by then.
He’ll have to take out a loan to get a round in, or resort to buying quarter-pints, if there’s any pubs left come 2033.
On a brighter note, Kerrie and I are delighted to have again proven our capabilities at looking after another human being, in addition to ourselves.
We knew we could do it.
Anyway, I must wish a huge happy birthday to our boy Louie – otherwise-known-as the little furniture destroyer.
He’s aged us by about 30 years over the last 24 months, but we reckon he’s worth it.
HAIRCUT MAY LEAD TO DIVORCE!
Is trimming your own child’s hair grounds for a divorce?
Kerrie seems to think it might be.
She jokingly said that she’d file for one if she ever returned home from work to find I’d cut the little man’s hair with my new Remington.
I say she was joking, but I’m not actually that convinced now. She can be quite protective over his haircuts.
On one occasion, I had to return him to the barber’s the following day because she didn’t feel they’d taken enough off the top.
I bought the clippers to manage my own rapidly diminishing barnet. I then suggested my new toy could probably also do a pretty effective job on Louie’s hair.
Not only that, but if I became his personal hairdresser, it would also save us an extra tenner every two months.
An additional £60 per annum would come in very handy.
That’s potentially an extra six takeaways a year. Now, that’s not to he sniffed at.
I didn’t reveal any of the figures to Kerrie though. I felt that might tip her over the edge.
The threat of divorce has also been made on a few other occasions since Louie’s arrival in the world.
In particular, I remember it being used as a bargaining tool when I proposed the idea of the boy wearing his football shirt to one of his early photo-shoots.
Suffice to say, I didn’t win that battle either.