Yay, toddlerhood.

I held her hand as we pulled into the parking garage.

I held her hand while waiting for the drawbridge.

I held her as the light turned green.

I held her hand while driving us home because her nervous system was out of control.

It’s somewhat easier to literally ride a toddler tantrum while they are in the back seat.

Lucky me, she’s still rear-facing.

It’s quite interesting how quickly it can happen.

Easy breezy trip to the grocery store.

Joyfully strolling the aisle, looking for the one item we came to get.

Heartwarming as she tells stories about what she sees around.

“Mama, I can be a helper!” Of course you can.

Charming walk back to the car, as she tries to carry the bag by herself.

Then, the emotional hijack.

A simple question, and a refusal.

“Would you like to climb onto the seat by yourself, or should Mama help you?”

A “by myself” followed by a clear opposite and defiant action.

I give her a few seconds and say, “We have to get going. So you can climb by yourself, or Mama can help you.”

“No! By myself!”

Then, nothing. She just stands there. Tight lips. Looking back at me.

You can almost hear the howling wind of this Western Duel.

Thing is, Mama must be in control here.

That’s what I know matters: safety boundaries are love.

So when I pick her up, I tell her, “Ok. Mama will help you then.”

The screams. Like a cat.

Decibels I hadn’t heard since she was a newborn.

Her weight seems to increase.

All my energy goes into remaining calm. Reminding her I’m keeping her safe, and it’s time to go home.

I know she can’t hear me through her own meltdown.

It’s okay. I’m doing my thing. I tell her anyway.

The screams, kicks, groans. But she’s buckled in, so at least there’s that?

I head home. Breathing for her.

When the meltdown begins to decrease, she seeks connection.

I’m here for it.

In an uncomfortable way, because it means twisting my arm as I reach back to hold her hand.

But I do it anyway.

I hold her hand as the light turns green.

I hold her hand as we wait for the drawbridge.

I hold her hand as we pull into the parking garage.