How to appreciate your two-year-old in the middle of a high-power tantrum: Dress them in stripey tights.
That's all it takes for me.
There is just something hilarious about the flailing blur of stripey legs that brings up all my childhood Suess-induced giddiness.
Rosalie did not appreciate my levity. Nor my photography. She took steps.
My doom approaching.
I recognized the danger, but was unable to remove myself due to paralyzing spasms of laughter mixed with trying to hold the camera steady.
I've heard this age called pre-adolescence. It's the mood swings. Just the other day Rosalie told me, after a bit of mom-initiated snuggling, "Mom, you love me soooo FAT!"
Yes, I do.