One of the things about being on my second child is that I risk being a know-it-all. I can't imagine what it would be like if I had 6 kids. I'd probably be self-publishing a guide to raising world leaders. My friend who shall remain nameless has a beautiful, smart two-and-a-half year old. My friend is convinced, in no particular order, that: 1. Her child's tantrums resolve easily because of her excellent parenting 2. Her child's out of this world gifted and about to read 3. Her child's lack of interest in candy is set for life. Now I get this because I believed all these things too. When my kid was 3, they asked all the kids at the Mother's Day Tea why their mom was special. The first child said because she gives me cookies, so all the rest said "because she gives me..." (chocolate, and so on.) My child said: Because she gives me oatmeal. I was proud. If a bit weirded out. (My theory is that's all he could remember, it having been the last thing I gave him.) But then my child turned three, and four and so on. Now my experience is not her experience, and what's more, it is not my job to correct her experience. But here's what I kind of darkly wish I could say: It's really the terrible threes Kids at this two are toddlers, but they are not expert toddlers. They throw tantrums because they are upset. Shortly, however, they will throw tantrums to upset you. (That's why Louise Bates Ames's editor is the greatest writer of parenting book titles ever: Your Three-Year-Old: Friend or Enemy.) Reading is not a straight path The day my kid could read Cheerios from the wrong (read: Honey Nut) box I thought he was a genius. He was steaming ahead on reading so fast! Until he discovered a scooter and didn't learn one single more sight word for six months, while everyone else caught up to him. They get the candy from friends once they're old enough And then they ask for more. But I'm going to be smart and not say anything. Except on this blog. I could passive-aggressive-share on Facebook though...