Natasha *totally exhausted*: It was Ilya‘s playgroup. Taking care of eight toddlers in their terrible twos is just inhuman. And our son was the leader of the pack!
Surprisingly enough no, but the word idiots shows up a lot in part of Terrible Twos so...
Scarlet’s eyebrow twitches, and she has to wonder if she’s surrounded by idiots.
No, she definitely is, she muses, staring at the group of troopers with ‘oh shit’ expressions and the two toddlers who had been teens only moments earlier. Two pairs of bright blue eyes look up at her from small faces, and she bites back a groan. This. This is why the experimental materia are not to be played with.
The sight of Reeve out of the corner of her eye is for once a blessing rather than a curse. Reeve is at least a competent human being, in contrast to most of their co-workers, or the idiots in front of her.
“Reeve! I need your help with something,” she says, raising her voice enough that her Urban Development counterpart could hear her.
“What do you…” Reeve trails off and looks at the toddlers in a puddle of a trooper uniform and a puddle of a Second Class uniform.
“Please take Second Class Fair and I’ll take his little trooper friend,” she orders. “And do not start running, if I have to call in the Turks to start identifying you idiots I will not be happy,” she warns, watching some of the ‘adult’ troopers tense as if to start fleeing.
Dick just turned 20 and Bruce has died through a plausible comic scenario. Which leaves Dick to take care of 2 year old Damian, along with 12 year olds Jason Todd and Cassandra Cain(the two of them tell everyone that they’re twins)
"Sewing It Up" Oneshot #12: "Mama Moment: Meltdown"
We’re officially in the pre-final-chapter time hop in “Sew On And Sew Forth”
~~~
Not much could call Villy from her focused streak while she was working. She always threw all her attention into whatever project she was working on, since she could lose her place if she got distracted.
But ‘not much’ didn’t include miscellaneous, painful-sounding grunts from her stepdaughter’s room. Now she remembered why she didn’t like working outside her studio downstairs, but she’d figured replacing a few buttons on her husband’s work shirt wouldn’t take a lot of time.
“Nyris?” she asked, appearing in the doorway. “Are you alright?”
“I can’t find my sparkly scrunchie! I need it for my ballet class!” the nine-year-old cried.
“Just wear another one.”
“I can’t! That’s my lucky scrunchie! I can’t do my fouettés without it!”
Not knowing the state of her stepdaughter’s room stopped her from entering. “Where did you last see it?”
“It was on my dresser, with my other scrunchies.”
“‘Parky!”
Nyris turned as her father carried her toddler brother into the room, and the poor hair accessory was balled up in his little fist. “My scrunchie! Why does Chozon have it?”
“Chozon, that’s Nyris’s scrunchie. Can you give it back and say sorry for taking it?” Geri asked, kissing his son’s cheek and setting him down.
The two-and-a-half-year-old boy toddled over to his big sister and handed her the accessory. “Tawwy, Nini.”
“It’s okay,” Nyris muttered, tying her hair into a neat bun and clipping her bangs back.
“We have to leave in ten minutes, Butterfly.” He lifted Chozon into his arms and carried him downstairs.
“‘Kay,” she called distractedly, making sure she had everything in her bag.
Villy went back to the bedroom and was able to finish the shirt before Geri and Nyris left. “Have you decided where you’re going on your daddy-daughter date?” she asked, coming down the stairs.
“We’re seeing the new Ozian Girl movie, Wynea Rides Again. All my friends have seen it, and I’ve successfully avoided their spoilers all week,” Nyris announced dramatically.
“Wonderful. Have fun in your ballet class and the movie,” Villy smiled, giving Nyris a hug.
“Thanks, Mimsey!”
“Go Papa!” Chozon said, tugging on his father’s hand.
Geri shook his head, kneeling to his level. “Not today, buddy. You’re staying here with Mama.”
“No! Go Papa!”
“But Mama planned a special day just for you.” He didn’t know if she had, but hoped she would work with him on this.
“I did. A very special day,” Villy added.
The toddler’s bottom lip quivered, and Geri could feel the meltdown coming. “Go Papa.”
“We had our special day last week, remember? It’s big sister’s turn now. Then next weekend, it’s your turn again.” He pulled his son into a hug, though didn’t know if it would make this situation worse or not. “Don’t you want a special day with Mama?”
He sniffed. “Uh-huh.”
The banker smiled. “That’s good.” He playfully ruffled his hair. “I know you’ll have fun and you’ll be a good boy. Say bye to Nyris.”
“Buh-bye, Nini,” he said, his momentary sadness forgotten as he hugged his big sister.
“Bye, Chozon,” Nyris smiled. “Bye, Mimsey.”
“Have you forgotten something?” Villy asked, hearing Geri unlock the front door.
He turned and pulled his wife into a kiss, which she quickly returned. “Now I’m good.”
She gently pulled away, blushing furiously, and opened her hand, revealing his car key. “I meant this, but thanks.”
He took the key with a sheepish chuckle. “Where was it?”
“On the dresser. I was putting my sewing kit back when I found it.”
“Thank you, Dovey.”
Once the two left, Villy lifted Chozon into her arms and kissed his cheek. “Looks like it's just us today, buddy.” She was glad for this day alone with her son.
“Mama book?”
“Yes, we can read a book.” She carried him up the stairs to his room, putting him down and hearing him run over to his little bookshelf.
“Dis one.” He pushed the book into his mother’s hands, jumping in excitement.
Her son had grabbed one of the non-braille picture books they hadn’t had the chance to get transcribed yet. “Mama can’t read this one, honey. Can you get one with the special dots?”
“‘Pecial book?”
“Yes, a special book. Like one of your animal books?” The braille books were mostly animal picture books, so he had a good chance of grabbing a book she could read.
“‘Kay! Farm book!”
“Put this one back on your shelf.”
He took the book back and grabbed the second one. “Big bed?”
The toddler loved to sit and sleep on the master bed, and it was his favorite cuddle and napping spot. “Sure.”
Once they were settled on the bed, Chozon snuggled on his mother’s lap, they began their special story.
“I see a river,” Villy read, “where all the animals get water. What animals are at the river?”
He looked at the colorful picture with a wide smile. “Horsies!”
“Yeah! What sound does a horse make?”
“Neigh!”
“What other animals are there?”
“Dat.”
“What’s that?”
His hand slammed against the picture page. “Dat!”
“What are you pointing at?”
“Baa-baa!”
Realization dawned on her. “You see sheep at the river?”
“Baa-baa!”
She chuckled. “Yes, a baa-baa.”
Reading soon turned into a game of making different animal noises, even ones that weren’t on the farm. Once he decided that he was done with the game, he slid off the bed and hurried out of the room.
“Wait, Chozon!” Villy called, reaching out her hand. “Come here.”
Chozon turned and bounced back. “Mama?”
“We need to put this book back. And you need to tell me what you wanna do next.”
“Make ‘nack in pay kiten.”
“Okay. We can cook together in the play kitchen.”
Once the book was safely back on the bookshelf, they headed downstairs to the library. Chozon ran over to the play kitchen he’d inherited once his older sister grew out of it, and went to work making a mess of all the plastic food and utensils.
“You like sawbewwies,” he smiled, holding the fruit out to his mother.
“I love strawberries,” Villy agreed, holding out her hand.
He handed her the fake fruit, and she eagerly pretended to chow down, followed by tomato soup, pizza, chicken nuggets, and ice cream.
“You’re a wonderful cook, Chozon,” Villy smiled, handing him the chocolate ice cream cone.
“Want real ice ceam now.”
She checked her watch. “Oh. It’s past lunchtime. Let’s have some real food. Let’s clean up.”
She helped her son clean up the mess, prompting him with questions as to which foods went in the fridge, and what went in the cabinet. Once they were done, she did a quick scan of the immediate area. Chozon hadn’t thrown anything (this time), and she didn’t feel any plastic toys, and she pulled her son into her lap for a congratulatory hug and kiss.
“Before we get lunch, let’s go potty.”
“No potty.”
They had started potty training, and now, mini potties were in both the up and downstairs bathrooms. Chozon had graduated from diapers to pull-ups to preserve their furniture and floors for as long as possible.
“Can we just try a little? You haven’t gone in a while.”
“No potty.”
She felt his pull-up. It felt dry, so she let it go. Fighting would only cause a meltdown. “Okay. We’ll go later. But tell me when you need to go pee-pee.”
The little boy hummed and toddled over to the stairs, reaching up to Villy to carry him up. “Up!”
As much as she loved carrying and holding her son, she was trying to slowly wean him off. “Mama can’t carry you right now, honey. But you can hold my hand, and we can walk up together.”
He wrapped his little fingers around hers, and they slowly made their way back up. For lunch, he requested a peanut butter and jelly sandwich (without the crust), but ended up using it as a luffa all over his face, shirt, and legs. Villy discovered the fate of the food when she went to take his plate, and he smeared his peanut-butter covered hands on her arm.
“Oh, Chozon,” she sighed, wetting a soft cloth and feeling for the mess around him and the highchair. She wiped his face, then felt his sticky shirt. “Let’s give you a bath.”
“Wit duckies!”
She lifted him from the chair and felt the chair. The only thing sticky was the tray, and the mat under the chair was clean. “Okay, let’s go.”
She bathed him as quickly as possible, making sure the smell of peanut butter was fully washed off, wrapped him in a towel, and carried him back to his room. After putting him in in a fresh pull-up, she went to pick out a new shirt and shorts, but fading footsteps made her pause. “Chozon?” She belatedly realized she forgot to close the door and he ran off. “Chozon!” she called, reaching out her hand on the off chance that he was still in the room. “We’re not playing hide-and-seek right now. Come here.”
Not hearing him, she went into the hall, trying to think of where he could have gone. She didn’t hear him go downstairs, so he had to still be up there. That made it easier for her. She paused, waiting to hear even the slightest sound her loud child would inevitably make. Grunts from the master bedroom caught her attention and she hurried over.
“Can’t get up, Mama,” he said from her side of the bed.
Relief washed over her and she walked over, her hand brushing against his curly hair. “Chozon, look at Mama.” She knelt, pulled him away from the bed, and turned him to face her. “Honey, what did we talk about? You can’t run away from me. I can’t see, so I can’t find you if you run away. Do you understand?”
“No running?”
“No running.”
“‘Kay.” He snuggled closer. “No running.”
“Good. Thank you, honey.”
She was positive she would have to continuously remind him, but for now, he seemed to understand. Though, she was already mentally preparing for his faze of sneakiness where he would be dead silent when he was doing something he knew he had no business doing.
“Let’s finish getting dressed now.”
“I pick.” He tugged on her hand, eager to pick out his own clothes.
In all his two-year-old style, Chozon chose his striped, orange t-shirt and purple shorts. The seamstress said nothing when she read the braille label on the tags, knowing her son didn’t understand anything about clashing colors. As her son, he’d soon be forced to learn.
Now redressed, they spent the next half hour playing with the blocks in his room (remembering to close the door this time). His favorite activity was stacking the blocks, then knocking them down. More often than not, Villy found herself on the receiving end of blocks to the face. Thankfully, the blocks were made of felt.
“Again!” Chozon laughed after knocking the tower down for the sixth time.
“Another castle?” Villy asked, pushing the blocks off her lap.
“Fort.”
“We can build a fort this time.”
Before she could hand him a block, Chozon jumped up and bolted to the door, grunting as he tried to reach the doorknob.
“Chozon, come here,” Villy said, but was ignored. “Chozon.”
“Fort! Downstairs fort!”
She went over. “We can’t go downstairs. We can make the fort up here.”
“No! Fort downstairs!”
“Chozon, we are not going downstairs.” She lifted him into her arms and carried him back to the blocks. As soon as she sat him down, he ran back to the door, his grunts turning into cries as he tried to reach the handle and banged on the door.
“Chozon, enough. I said no.” She picked him up again, tightening her grip when he started flailing. She set him down, but kept his hand in hers, stopping him from running again. But it didn’t stop him from pulling against her.
“No, Mama! No! Down!” In his falling and flailing, his hand roughly smacked against his mother’s cheek.
After a moment of shock, Villy wrapped her arms around his hips, locking her fingers behind his back, doing her best to not react to his physical outbursts. “Chozon,” she said seriously, her tone forcing him to pay attention. “I know you are upset, but it’s never okay to hit anyone. It hurts when you hit. I need you to calm down.”
“No!”
She could feel his skin heat up and his breathing quicken, and she knew she had to calm him down before he made himself sick. “Honey…”
“No…” he breathed as he started to wheeze. He tried to push away from her, keeping her at arm’s length. “No…” This new feeling scared him, amplifying his hysterics.
She had been able to deescalate his meltdowns before, but this was a whole new level. She knew she had to tread lightly. “Can you take some deep breaths, Chozon?”
“No!” He whined and coughed directly in her face.
She couldn’t suppress a wince, feeling the tiny, wet specks hit her face. She wiped her face with her forearm and quickly returned to her hold on her son. “Well, I’m gonna take some deep breaths. You can do them with me, if you want,” She demonstrated the calming behavior, and felt his grip on his shoulders loosen slightly. “Are you ready to talk now?”
“No.” His cries lessened to a whine, which she took as a good sign.
“Okay. Do you want a hug?”
His grip tightened again. “No.” He started pushing and whining again, and she could tell he was trying to communicate with her. She waited patiently for a word she could understand to tell her what he wanted. He tried to escape her hold again, but she kept her grip firm. “Dat!” he said, pointing at an unknown object.
“What are you pointing at?”
“Dat!” The tears returned and he sank to the floor.
She could tell they had shifted from wanting to make the fort downstairs into a grey area of miscommunication. He was getting frustrated she didn’t know what he was trying to say or what he pointed at.
“You need to talk to me, Chozon. Can you tell me with your words what you want? You know so many words,” she asked gently.
He shook his head.
“Can we do our deep breaths again?”
She got more whining words and foot stomps, but no deep breaths.
“Chozon, I can’t understand you when you’re whining. I can’t help if I can’t understand.”
“Dat! Ma… ma… I…”
She rubbed calming circles on his stomach. “Show me what you want.” She stood and helped him to his feet. While she was prepared for him to bolt to the door again, she was surprised when he took her hand and pulled her over to his crib. “Dat!” he said, reaching for the sock monkey.
The seamstress reached in and felt around for the toy. “You wanted your sock monkey,” she said softly.
He took it from her and sank to the floor, hugging it tightly. His wheezes slowly calmed as he pressed his face against the soft toy. “You said… make a fort,” he said with a cough.
Now that he was calm, they could talk. “I did.”
“You… has fabics…”
“You wanted to make a fort with my work fabrics?”
“Yeah. Downstairs.”
Her muscles relaxed. “I’m sorry I misunderstood you. But we can’t use those fabrics. Those are for my work. Do you still want to make our fort? We can use a blanket, instead.”
“No.” He rested his head on her shoulder. “Juice.”
“Okay, let’s do this. Say, ‘Mama’.”
“Mama…”
“Juice, please.”
“… Juice.”
“Please.”
“… Please.”
She nodded. “Yes, Chozon. You can have juice.” She gave him a gentle squeeze, rocking him. “I love you.”
“Wuv you.” He turned, pressing a gentle kiss to her cheek, right at the spot where he hit her. “Tawwy.”
“Thank you, sweetie. I’m okay. Are you feeling better now?”
“Yeah.”
“Good. We’ll go wash our face, then get juice.”
Once the toddler was placated with his apple juice and had a potty break (celebrated by getting a star on his chart), he began to settle down for a nap. As was their routine, Villy held him and walked around the living room humming her special lullaby, only laying him on the sofa when she was sure he was fast asleep. He wasn’t a restless sleeper, so she felt comfortable letting him nap on the sofa. She moved the pillows to the floor in case he slipped off, and draped a light blanket over him.
Taking advantage of the silence, she took a moment to regroup and did some minor cleaning. Every few minutes, she’d check on him, and she found him in the exact same position each time. She was in the middle of washing the dishes when she heard the front door unlock.
“We’re home!” Geri called, pulling the key from the lock as Nyris bounced in.
“Hi, Mimsey!” Nyris giggled, hugging her stepmother from behind.
Villy dried her hands and turned to return the hug. “Hi. How was class and the movie?”
“Both were fun. Papa let me have a large bucket of butter popcorn. And he cried at the end.”
“There was a lot of dust in the theater, and my eyes watered,” the banker defended himself.
“Uh-huh,” Villy smirked. “I’m sure it was your allergies, and not the fact that you’re a big softy.”
“Of course. I can’t be a strong bodyguard, and be seen crying at the end of a movie for tween girls. Where’s Chozon?”
“He’s napping on the couch. I put him down around thirty minutes ago, but he might be out for longer than normal.”
“Was everything okay?”
“Yeah. We had a good time today.”
He could see the truth in his wife’s eyes that it was a harder-than-normal day, but didn’t comment on it. “Do you want a break?” he whispered, wrapping his arm around her.
She sighed. “It wouldn’t go unappreciated.”
“Okay. You go lie down. I’ll finish the dishes and entertain the kids. I won’t let Chozon sleep too long, so he’ll sleep tonight.”
“Thank you.” She made her way up to the bedroom and unceremoniously collapsed on the bed, sleep taking over the second her head hit the pillows.
They call them terrible twos and they're fucking terrible all right.
My daughter is on my last nerve every day, and I don't think I used to be this impatient - hell, angry - with my son at the same age.
All kids are different, blah blah.
I've been thinking that I screwed her up massively by letting her watch tv too early. She has no attention span. She won't talk. She is unbearably clingy, doesn't sleep, stays upset for longer than is possible, and is making everything fucking harder.
My parents were just here and she wrecked a whole day with them. My dad, who is magical with toddlers, was lost. Just holding onto her as best he could (she stiffens her whole body in and attempt to get you to drop her) and calling for me.
We're packing up the house, getting ready to move again, and there's this small gremlin tugging on our pants, whining to be picked up, and when she isn't being carried around, she's wrecking the place. Smacking her brother, throwing stuff, or her new favorite, lingering in open doors trying (?) to let Jinkies out.
I hate that last one.
I hate all of it, actually. And separating the girl from the behavior, which should be simple and obvious, gets buried beneath the incessant misbehaving.
