What Almost-Two Looks Like

In the past two weeks my boy has turned from a darling, sweet, and wonderful little person into a serious cranky-pants.

Two years old.  Charming.  Because...

being two years old means hitting everything with the broom.
being two means toruring the cats.
being two means yes, I do want to read a book, but...OH MY GOSH I SUDDENLY DON'T!!!!
it means...

No pants.  No pants on and no pants off.  No socks.  No shirt.  For the love of Pete no shirts with buttons on them, the horror.  No shoes.  No blue boots, only red boots.  No snowsuits, only coats. No mittens.  No hat.  NO HAT!!

Because two is wanting a bubble bath more than anything in the world until you're IN the bath at which point it is utter torture and you spend your whole bath whining and complaining and trying to pull the plug.

Two is never, ever ever ever wanting to be changed regardless of how disGUSTing the situation has become and how clean you will be in only a few minutes if you would stop trying to wipe your feet in your diaper.

Two is eating nothing but spinach nuggets and ginger ale for two days.  Two is insisting on bananas and apple juice and then throwing them.  Two is kicking.  Two is yelling.  Two is long, drawn out stories about snow and people outside.  Two is endless, endless Bob the Builder episodes.

I'm having some trouble with this almost-twoness right now.