Psychotic Toddler Syndrome
“This is just like that twilighty show about that zone” – Homer J. Simpson
Did you ever see that Twilight Zone episode (or the movie) where creepy six year old Anthony Fremont has used his God-like powers to remove his hometown to some other dimension and holds the townspeople hostage as his playmates? Everyone is forced to tiptoe around the boy, submitting to his every whim and saying only nice things, lest they tick him off and meet a horriying fate. The premise for the show seemed rather fantastical to me. Well, until today.
After spending this past three-day-weekend with my son, I now know how the characters felt.
E at 25 weeks - before PTS
My son, E (as I call him in this blog to protect him from future embarrassment of being associated with me), had a cold Friday. I took him to the doctor, who prescribed an oral steroid for his cough. She warned, “the medicine might make him a little cranky.”
A little cranky? I beg to differ, doc.
For three days, my son has been the Crankiest. Toddler. Ever. You know, the kind you see on the TV show, SuperNanny – an emotional rollercoaster. Everything was making him angry and frustrated. He responded by screeching, crying, throwing food, throwing toys, and things he’s never done before.
My wife, who is a lot more patient than I am, said he is simply frustrated because he isn’t able to communicate yet. As if to prove the point, he walked around baby grunting and pointing to things he wanted , er, HAD TO HAVE!
Ironically, during this crankiest of times, (when I just wanted to get in the car and drive really really far away) he was also especially needy for attention. If either my wife or I left the room, you’d think we left him alone with a meat necklace in a room full of dogs. And here’s the weird part – even though he wanted us BOTH in the room at all times, he didn’t necessarily want to interact with us. He just wanted us around.
Here is a glimpse at today’s madness:
- 4:51 p.m. - My son is racing around the living room while I crawl after him making monster sounds. He is giggling hysterically as he circles the dining room table, his head bobbing side to side, eyes squinting in excited glee. He loves this game, we play it almost daily, even when Monster Daddy is too tired to chase, so instead kinda’ lays there making growling sounds as baby races around the house.
- 4:52 p.m. - As E comes towards the sofa, where Monster Daddy is hiding, I spot a streak of cat hairball goo (the damned cat coughs one up every day, it seems). I call a time out so I can clean up. Mommy grabs E up so he won’t step in the cat goo.
- 4:52:30 p.m. - E starts crying, wanting to resume play.
- 4:53 p.m. - Mommy is struggling to hold E as he squirms and kicks, attempting to break free. His crying has turned into a screeching yell.
- 4:58 p.m. - I finish cleaning the cat goo and am ready to resume play.
- 4:59 p.m. – E is inconsolable, face red, tears streaking down his cheeks, snot running in streams from his nose. I try to hug him. He reaches for mommy. He buries his head in her shoulder, still crying, and not relenting. In fact, he gets louder. “What’s wrong?” mommy asks.
- 5:00 p.m. - “Maybe he has PMS,” I joke.
- 5:00:10 p.m. - For some reason, mommy is not laughing.
- 5:01 p.m. - Mommy is still rolling her eyes and shaking her head.
- 5:02 p.m. - I rush to get E a bottle of milk. While he doesn’t normally get like this, the few times he’s come close to this level of crankiness, a bottle of milk has served as the antidote.
- 5:04 p.m. - E is drinking milk, sitting on mommy’s lap, tears starting to subside.
- 5:05 p.m. - E jumps down from mommy’s lap, looks around the living room and is amused by something that apparently only toddlers can see and he starts laughing. Yes, laughing!
- 5:06 p.m. - E is suddenly in a GREAT mood and running around the house again.
- 5:07 p.m. - My wife and I are staring at our son as if he’s just pulled a rabbit out of his diaper. I will not lie. I am terrified. We don’t know what set him off, why he reacted so badly, and we are both walking on eggshells not to have a repeat performance.
This was but one of several examples during the three day weekend of what I can only call episodes of Psychotic Toddler Syndrome, or PTS. I’m not sure if it had anything to do with the medicine, as it happened at seemingly unrelated times, or if it’s just because E was not feeling well, or…. if this a sneak preview of the dreaded Terrible Two’s you hear so much about (even though he’s only 16 months old).
So, if any of you parents out there feel like sharing similar stories (you know, like a PTS support group), know of ways I can avoid future PTS episodes, or have dire warnings of what hell I’m in for as a parent, please feel free to comment.
On unrelated notes:
Writer Dad was kind enough to send some link love my way and detailed the story of how we met online. He also mentioned an upcoming collaboration we are working on, which you will hear more about on Friday. So, big thanks to Writer Dad and welcome new readers.
On another unrelated note, you can now subscribe to BloggerDad via email. (just plug in your email address in the box to the right and get BloggerDad delivered to your inbox for free every day)
And yet on another unrelated note, I’ve discovered a LOT of great blogs since I started this thing a few weeks ago. I’ll be adding them to my blogroll this week and spotlighting them in future posts.
as always, thanks for reading,
Blogger Dad
12 Responses to “Psychotic Toddler Syndrome”
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I had a crazy time too when my two girls were younger. I thought being of a female sex, they would be docile and compliant. No way!! They proved me wrong! They have a mind of their own even while they were so tiny.
But time passes by so quickly. They’ve gotten bigger and I am able to reason more with them. All in all, while there were crazy times, there were far more many moments to be treasured. So enjoy the ride while it lasts!
Blogger Dad,
LMAO. Sorry but it’s funny because it’s happening to someone else and not just me. I’ve been putting up with this for the last seven years and there’s no sign of it abating. So excuse me if I just stand, point, and laugh! Bwaaaahahaha.
You know I’m really laughing with you, right?
Cheers
Dave
Oh yes, that sounds very familiar. Our daughter started displaying the terrible two syndrome around 14 months, but as soon as she hit the dreaded 2 year mark, she seemed to take a turn for the better. I am not sure if this was our willingness to resume activities around her schedule, but a lot has improved.
Bella used to get serious ear infections all the time. Your timeline resembles one of the numerous occasions. It actually made me laugh and cringe at the same time…I’m not laughing at you…I’m laughing because of you, but only because I remember so clearly going through that myself…does this mean I am laughing at myself? That can’t be good…I better get that checked out.
Believe me when I tell you this, although the current situation seems indicitave of what is still to come…it will get better!
Oh, Blogger Dad. You just wait until they’re throwing down some words into the mix.
Same behavior + language = Calgon, take me away.
Great post. I’m sure any dad can relate.
I am just riding the Terrible Twos as we speak. My daughter is a NIGHTMARE. She’s three in a week’s time and I am praying PRAYING I tell you, that she will suddenly switch from Child from Hell to Child from Heaven at noon on her birthday. If she doesn’t I am running for the hills! I am a very very patient mum, but so help me she is testing my tolerance to the very limit.
Sorry – not rubbing it in just sharing the hell!
Evelyn – I like your message, enjoy the ride while it lasts. It kinda’ goes with the message I sent along with my son to his daycare watchers, ‘buckle up, it’s gonna’ be a bumpy ride.’
Dave – Um, did you say SEVEN YEARS?! Yeah, I’m sure you’re laughing with me. Sure, you are, buddy.
Sal – I don’t know who to believe, you or Dave above you, who said this is only a sign of seven years of unending hell. Glad things worked out for you and that I could provide a laugh/flashback. And yeah, you better see a doc quickly. I heard on television, and we all know that TV never lies, that laughing at yourself is the first sign of senility/erectile dysfunction/male pattern baldness/restless legs syndrome or whatever the condition of the week is.
Writer Dad – I would welcome talk over baby grunting… I think? Hell, I don’t even know. I’m looking for the Calgon as we speak.
Tara – LOL. I’m sure that at noon Sunday, the clouds will part, light will shine down on your house as a chorus of angels heralds the new age of your Child of Heaven. To be on the safe side, you might wanna’ make sure your car has a full tank.
Blogger Dad – found you through Writer Dad …
What they don’t tell you is that the “real” Terrible Two’s don’t start until the kid is 2 3/4ths and last well past their third birthday. My son is deep in the throes of this.
I’m not sure if you’re lucky your doc prescribed something for E’s cold or not . Our doc won’t and my little ones just have to suffer through it. Thank goodness the 3 yr old hasn’t been sick since March (knocking heavily on wood) and the 7 month old hasn’t been sick yet (knocking harder).
I like reading the dad’s perspective … gives me insight for my husband! He’s was laid off in June also and has been enjoying the kids this summer.
Well OK then, I was laughing a little bit AT you but fair’s fair, I’ve had my turn at being laughed at and as I still have 2 under three years old, people are still laughing.
Like Tara, the eldest of my little girls turns three in four weeks time. I’d like to be optimistic about the ‘terrible twos’ ceasing immediately she reaches 3, however having already had two children run up to this deadline and stomp all over it, I hold out NO hope!
Liz – Thanks for stopping by and for scaring the hell out of me. If the Terrible Two’s don’t start until well after two, well… I don’t even want to think about how crazy he’s gonna’ get.
Dave – I knew you were laughing at me! But as it is more indicative of your toddler-induced nervous breakdown, I won’t hold it against you. In fact, I may just join you.
As long as I keep taking the meds, I’ll be fine. Apparently.