Cloudy with a chance of sunshine

So. I have a two year old. He's almost three. He used to be all sunshiney and smiley and happy and a pure joy. But something has happened, and I just don't know what exactly.

What I do know is that now he's more of a thundercloud, dark and ominous.

Take today, for example. And this is QUITE the common occurrence lately. We had to go to the store for a few items. Wait, let me back up a bit. Yesterday Mr. Thundercloud was jumping on my bed. Is this allowed? No. Does he know it's not allowed? Yes. Was he doing it anyway? You betcha.

So he's jumping. And just like the little kiddie rhyme, he fell off the bed. And I think he sprained his ankle. He came out crying, but it was an odd cry. Almost like it hurt too bad to cry. And he's been hobbling around on it every since.

So today, we go to the store for a few items, and homeboy takes approximately 17 years to make it in from the parking lot. So I decide he's going in the cart, lest we have to wander the aisles of the store until I can collect Social Security, due to the fact that his foot hurts.

Well now. Apparently, and this is news to me, having to sit in the cart is pure, unadulterated, cruel and mean spirited torture. Almost as bad as having to get your hair washed, or your toenails clipped.

So he starts screaming. And kicking. And flailing. And thrashing. Now here's the thing. The last 5 or 6 times we've had to go to the store, he's pulled the same behavior. Probably when the store employees see us coming they call out a CODE and everyone is issued ear plugs. It's really very loud, these tantrums. And violent. I feel sorry for my fellow shoppers. And yeah, I feel sorry for myself too. I mean, the kid is OUT OF CONTROL.

So he's yelling like I've got him sitting on nails while shoving cayenne pepper in his eyes. Everyone is looking at me. It's super pleasant. Meanwhile, I'm just trying to get my few measly items and get the heck on out of there.

I finally make a deal with him; if he'll sit quietly in the cart for 1 minute then he can get out. He cries and fusses about that for 12 minutes or so and then finally is quiet. For 30 seconds. But, eh, I take it. He is only 2 after all. I take him out of the cart. And we spend the next 30 minutes walking to the cash register.

There went my morning plans.

But then, at the most unexpected moment, he'll come up to me, wrap his chubby little arms around my neck, kiss my cheek and say in his sweet little voice, "Mommy? I like you." Or he'll rub his fat cheeks against my... fat cheeks. And he's so little and smells good and can be quite charming when he wants to.

So I'll weather these storms with him, in hopes that one day his little sunbeam will overpower the storm clouds and I'll have my sunshine back. In the meantime, we won't venture far from the house. Thank God for Netflix and pizza delivery.