terrible twos? I'll take them

Lately I've been thinking two year olds are my favorite. 

You think I'm completely crazy? Two is supposed to be terrible?  I think it's adorable. They are so excited about everything, easy to pack around, easy to distract and when they do something they're not supposed to--it's more cute, than annoying or frustrating. Unless of course you're in a public. And they do lot of things they're not supposed to be doing. A lot.

This morning I took E into the doctors for what has become, 'the never ending ear infection'. This has, of course, tabled my belief that Hughes-Elf ears are genetically superior and incapable of contracting common ear infections. Jokes on me because it turns out Eliot's elf ear canal is so tiny, it's nearly impossible to see down. Even after she is held down by a nurse, while the doctor painfully cleans out her ear--even when seen through a magnifying class. Though I did enjoy distracting her with the story of Achilles and the sacking of Troy. She thinks Paris is a pompous idiot. 

I digress.

I took E to the doctor this morning and decided to bring along my adorable, spunky two year old--turning down an offer to for her to play at a friend's. We don't need to get into too many specifics, let's just say it didn't go well. It didn't help that the quick doctors appointment morphed into a three hour visit with a stint in the ENT's office.

It started off well when we followed nurse in the doctor's office, Vi took one look at the table where she received her vaccinations two weeks before and took off at a dead sprint, disappearing, leaving only the slamming the door behind her. She's nobody's fool.

From there it devolved.

she's a blur

At one point, in our trek from the pediatric ward to the ENT, she saw a lady in a large, padded wheel chair. She stopped dead, right in front of the wheel chair, stared for a good thirty seconds and then shouted, "Mom, car coming!"

One of us then disappeared.

It wasn't me, who was deservedly embarrassed--there was no denying she belonged to me and was completely out of control. We were the only Caucasians around and she'd already bowled over several unsuspecting hospital goers (not the most durable victims) in her quest to "catch" Eliot and tag her. A game I'd made up to get her to walk faster. No, Violet had disappeared by climbing into a nearby cabinet.

Two hours later, after she'd peed through her diaper and eaten all my mints, we left the hospital. She took a nap. I fell asleep on the couch reading, The Iliad.

She woke up with a smile, happily announcing, "Mama, me good ssss!"

And once again I love my two year old.