The Wrong Side of the Bed

We had one of those days yesterday. It was the first house party of the festive season and we were kicked about our three-way play date for the evening. Of course it had to crumble like a batch of over-done cookies.

The morning was uncannily insipid with the quickest breakfast in the relatively short lifespan of our parenthood. This emboldened us for a family visit to the grocery store where the theme of the day unraveled. What followed was a day and night of clashing wills and power plays.

Grouched Up

Grouchy, Grumpy, Grinch..

Average parents know what I am talking about. The perfectly sweet child wakes up cranky, refuses to eat, latches to parents like a leech and then hates their guts for breathing. There is surely a rational to such radical shift of behavior but it has eluded my comprehension till date. It is exhausting enough to face such a day. But to do so in the presence of two other sets of parents to perfectly well-behaved toddlers is fairly embarrassing. It is a public certification of the abject failure of the parenting style. It could be the Terrible Twos – as I had conjectured in an early post or just an ever lurking evil in the journey of parenthood that one has to defeat time and again to move to the next level.

Whatever it is, stock up on some good wine young parents – you would need a stiff one to get through the days of the “Wrong Side of the Bed”

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