It's been a rough morning so far. Yes, I know it's only 9:05 AM.
Baby Girl has a tantrum whenever Daddy goes out, even if it's to throw something out in the trash can. She wails at the top of her lungs, throws herself on the floor, and is a shining example of the two-year old tantrum. We're amazed at how a calm, happy little girl can change faster than the weather. She becomes Banshee Girl Number Two.
And she doesn't stop until Daddy comes back. This morning, he needed to change the oil and replace the brake pads of his car, so that it will pass inspection. It took an hour...and Baby Girl had a fit for about 50 minutes of that hour. Even when I carried her outside to show her that Daddy was just in the driveway and wasn't going anywhere.
Argh. Daddy's little girl, no doubt about it. Banshee Girl (number one) used to do the same thing when she was Baby Girl's age. In these cases, the only thing to do is to let the tantrum run its course, and make sure neither girl hurts herself. Once the hysterics are over, either a) they're so tired they fall asleep or b) they realize that Mom isn't giving in to the tantrum and they go do something else.
Hubs claims they do the same thing if I go out. I dunno; they seem less traumatized when I return home. They look up at me as if it's, "Oh. Hi Mom. You're back."
Nice to know you're missed.
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