It's all a metaphor, isn't it? As soon as someone recognizes they're in a cage, they want to escape... but when given the freedom... suddenly there is no need. There is no need to rebel when there's nothing to rebel against. I totally get it. Nobody puts baby in a corner surrounded by bars.
Children are far better at communicating with their actions than adults are so communication becomes this tricky thing because we don't really speak each other's language(s). Not really. So we get frustrated because DUH and they get frustrated because DUH and then it's our DUH against their DUH and when there are TWO toddlers being, all, "CAN YOU BELIEVE THIS LADY?" their DUH feels far more powerful than your DUH and DUH DUH DUHHHHHH! You wake up at 3am to two faces against your face and you scream because AHHHHHH!
But it's worse than AHHHHHH because twin two-year olds are extremely challenging. I think this age might be even harder than infancy because Bo and Revi feed each other's fuel - they plant ideas in each other's heads and join forces to come up with the most insane plots and schemes. (Last week they managed to break my guitar (punch a hole in it, wtf?) the Blueray player (bread does not play movies) and Hal's Kindle.
They whisper to each other and when they see me coming they're like, "Sh! SHHHHHHH!"
Those were Bo's exact words, by the way.
"Hi, mom! Have a party!"
At least they were in their room this time. As opposed to the couch or the kitchen or, you know, outside...
And so? Last night I decided to throw my hands up...
...in the air (and wave them like I just don't care.)
"Party on, Wayne" I said as I turned on the lights and kissed them gooddiscoteque. "Party on, Garth."