Ezra turned two in late August, and almost overnight our easy-going, happy child turned into an irritable, tantrum-throwing, non-sleeping goblin. I don't understand it. The smallest thing--often imperceptible to Nell or me--can send him spiraling into a sea of uncontrollable wailing. Nothing consoles him. And he feeds off our frustration. It is like having a newborn again, only worse because in moments of lucidity, Ezra is a wonderful boy. Knowing that he doesn't have to "lose it" and that he has the potential for warmth and happiness makes his outbursts--which can last hours on end--all the more difficult to take.
Sorry for the rant. But it's 4:45 a.m. on Monday morning, and we've been up for awhile with the boy, who is still screaming at the top of his lungs. Sigh.