High Pitch

I believe it is possible that I gave birth to a Pterodactyl, and no, I am not talking about the child born six-and-a-half weeks ago, but rather the one born two years and three months ago.

Oh, Linky Thomas. Yes – I am looking at you my sweet, sweet and oh-so-incredibly shrieky child.

IMG_1187Every single day, the pitch of your protests makes me think prehistoric.

Perhaps some of you have noticed me alluding to this on Facebook? It seems that Lincoln’s shrieks have been creeping into more and more status updates as of late:

“After dealing with two *massive* meltdowns from LT this morning, I’ve decided you only get as many freak outs in a day as you are old. That means he is done and Mama gets to spend the rest of the day crying and screaming “NO!” 33 times (if she so chooses).”

“Can’t say I have ever actually heard a stuck (struck?) pig squeal…and yet…every.blessed.time one of my Middles takes something from the other Middle, I can’t help but think of that expression.” (ok – RL gets credit for that one, too)

And if there weren’t others that I actually posted, there are definite moments that I considered doing so because 1) sometimes I think in status updates (hey – you know you’ve done it, too), 2) life with a 2yo is great fodder for Facebook – everyone out there knows just how lovable, laughable, and  unbelievable they can be.

Which reminds me of this little progression that did make the good old timeline last week and is a pretty accurate depiction of one of the reasons Lincoln so often shrieks: he wants Truman.

So these three photos were taken before bed (yeah, Ben was thrilled with me when I grabbed the camera and the children as he was wanting to take them up to start reading bedtime books, but c’mon – four kids in footie fleece PJs? I could not resist the photo op!), and I give to you Exhibit A of Lincoln’s discontent:


I did not let him hold the baby. So he flung himself to the far side of the couch, causing my husband’s eyebrows to raise as he asked me, “Whhhhy are we doing this?” And I just kept taking pictures because, honesty, I guess. THIS is life with a 2yo. And you can still see the footies, so mission accomplished, right?

Moving on to Exhibit B:


Look at that face! That is one heck of glare and it was very much accompanied by tears and wailing, in case you can’t quite see his splotchy face. Again, husband so happy with me. Toddler, too.

But then, we finally got to the Happy Part for Lincoln, as showcased in this, Exhibit C:IMG_1226

He got his hands on the baby and all was well. His face is sort of hidden here, but trust me when I say that is a happy, glowing face staring with adoration at his little brother.

But holding Trumy only lasts 30 seconds at most, at which point Linky is off to his next rambunctious activity and one never knows how long it will be before he vocally erupts again. Part of the problem, like any toddler, is that his language is still developing and he gets plain old frustrated and then mad when we don’t understand what he’s trying to say to us. I get that, Bubba. I really do. It sucks when you try to tell someone something and they don’t hear you. But wow, I am trying here, Little Dude, and having you start screaming at high pitch/full volume doesn’t actually help the situation. Promise.

It also doesn’t help that most all mornings start off with this less than desirable form of communication. Apparently breakfast time is a hard time to be two because Lincoln spends most of  his time at the table squawking. It doesn’t matter if you give him the box of cereal he’s angrily pointing to or not, he’s going to shriek. Same for milk or orange juice. And all the things. He just shrieks like a banshee to the point that HD and RL have made comments about wanting to sit elsewhere to eat. And poor Ben; he’s stuck with this early morning fun show by himself most mornings because I am in another room nursing the baby or pretending to sleep for just five more minutes before I have to get up and nurse or make HD’s lunch or get dressed (but who am I kidding? there’s not even pretend sleep when someone is making noise that like that).

I realize this is a phase. It too shall pass. I did not actually birth a pterodactyl. But, wow. It’s a good thing that Lincoln gives the absolute best hugs because they make up pretty nicely for all the bleeding in my ears.

Posted in LT

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