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In the past four days I've had to call Poison Control twice (note: child-proof bottle tops are not Sam-proof) and taken Sam in to have his hand x-rayed after he slammed it in my closet door. He's fine, but I'm a wreck. In fact, when the x-ray tech asked if there was any chance I might be pregnant, my response was, “Oh good God, NO!” Seriously, if this is what he's like as a toddler, what's going to happen when he's sixteen and wants to get his driver's license?

My beloved Dr. Karp has a theory that kids this age are basically little chimpanzees. He may be on to something. One of my mom friends recently found her son standing on top of her computer monitor (which was sitting on top of her desk). Another reported that her toddler swiped a bottle of beer and downed it while kicking back in her tot-sized recliner.

At Sam's one-year well child exam, our pediatrician informed me that the terrible twos start at one . . . and I just laughed, thinking he was making a joke . . .

Posted 07 January 2005 at 02:20 PM