My son is 16 months old today, and he’s officially entered toddlerhood.
He is finally walking (ahem, toddling) everywhere, but that isn’t why I know we’ve arrived.
In the past two days he’s spit at me when I asked him to stop doing something, hit me when I took something dangerous away, and had a total meltdown when one of his crackers snapped in half.
Yep, I’ve got a toddler on my hands.
I have to admit, I’m kind of panicking about it. My daughter is already hard enough, and I thought I had a bit more time before he started driving me batty…