Butter wouldn't melt in her mouth

Little Miss Daisy is getting quite a temper.

According to most sources online, temper tantrums usually start around 15 months through 2 years (aka: "the terrible twos") but, as we're learning, Daisy forgot to read the developmental manual and is on her own timeline.

When Daisy doesn't get want she wants, when she wants it (or is forced to do something she doesn't want to do, when we want her to do it), she has now developed the delightful skill of stamping her feet, marching on the spot, turning beet-red and screaming as if she was just side-swiped by that killer whale.

Ok, so, in reality she's not that different from me on a good day but still, she got there a lot faster than I expected.

So far her pink-fits are short-lived and she is easily distracted, which has made it easy to find her draaaama quite entertaining. However, the act of putting on a diaper these days requires the wrangling skills of Crocodile Dundee and the body padding of a ice-hockey goalee. (If you're a guy, you may also want to add one of those nifty baseball cups.) Legs kick, backs arch, arms flail, and tears stream. I have been kicked in the nose, Hubby's crown jewels have been threatened more than once, and poor Aunty Brandy has concluded that she has the legs of a future soccer star.

Getting this kid to lay on her back long enough to get the diaper off is a feat in itself but trying to get the diaper to stay put under her constantly writhing body while you attempt to stick the little tabs, is all-but impossible some days. If you see us in Target and it looks like she has a lopsided ass, you can safely conclude that we just went through a tough diaper change.

This week we took her to a pediatrician check-up for her ear infection (which is now clear), and Daisy threw one of her tantrums with the doctor, making it all but impossible for her to see . inside Daisy's ear. It took all three of us - Hubby, doc, and moi - to hold her down on the table, and for the doc to be able to see down her ear canal with the little ear-torch thing. We tried many other, less restrictive postures first, but all to no avail - it was brute force or the white flag. With the amount of screaming going on, you would have thought we were murdering her! She got so mad and went soooo red that her skin was blotchy for a good thirty minutes after we left.

Of course, Hubby and I felt terrible that it was so hard for the pediatrician to do such a simple check-up but the doctor simply said that it was just a "typical toddler tantrum" and to expect it through age two or three at every doctor's visit from hereon out. Honestly, I think we were less miffed by the prospect of every doctor's visit being a repeat performance, than were by the fact that she referred to Daisy as a "toddler". After that word hung in the air, there was a moment of silence as Hubby and I digested. To us she is still a baby. I guess she always will be.

This early start has got me wondering whether we're going to get this whole "terrible" stage over and done with early OR whether we've just got longer to build to a higher state of terribleness. Of course, I fool myself daily that it's the former but, in reality, I realize I am both powerless to stop it and unable to control it. The best I can do is not to feed into it and hope for the best. Fortunately, pretty much every person who takes care of her is on the same page regarding what to do when she's throwing one of her wobblies - ignore her and at all costs do not give her what she wants - so we've at least got consistency on our side.

All this said, she is still a mostly happy, funny little girl. She's an awful lot of fun to hang out with: super inquisitive, a learning sponge, and full of gusto. It could be worse. I hope it doesn't get so.