I remember it well: I had 3 minutes to get everyone into the car and so naturally this was the day my youngest decided to first utter the phrase, “I do it myself.” Just like coming into contact with the Death Eaters from Harry Potter, I could feel the life-force being sucked out of me. These particular words (in various forms) exhaust parents everywhere; add 20 minutes of lag time to your exit strategy and an extra shot in your latte. If you aren’t using some sort of under eye night cream, start. Envision the amount of patience you’d need to sit at an NRA sponsored Trump rally (so really just a rally) and then quadrupole it and that should cover you until about 9am on any given Tuesday with a two-year-old.
Since this is my second shot with a two year old, I have complied a list that can help you through this stage of "I can do it myself" that coincidently coincides with: limited dexterity, pig-headed stubbornness, and world class meltdowns.
1). Find shoes that a blind chimpanzee could put on and buy 4 pairs (for your car, front door, back door, and an emergency pair for when, not if, all those others get lost).
2). Don’t hand them anything that shatters when thrown. Everything they handle should be the consistency of string cheese—for your safety and the safety of your Magnolia Market knick knacks.
3). Avoid purchasing any food that you yourself aren’t able to open blindfolded with your feet.
4). Never and I mean never give them your cellphone. Not only will you have to deal with the judgy-eyed ladies at Target that use expressions like "In my day...", but you will quickly lose social media followers with your posts of: “--vbbnnnmnmmnnmmm n” followed by angled pictures directly up your kid's nostrils.
5). Never purchase clothes with zippers or buttons unless you enjoy spending the majority of the day standing in your front entry way and never actually leaving the house.
6). If you say “yes” to something once, an unwavering precedent has been set—so think really carefully about telling them they can peal their own hardboiled egg.
I love raising my fierce, independent little women but there is just something about two-year-old’s that makes everything twice as terribly hard.