Life with Regan

No - not Ronald Reagan.  I DO know how to spell (although I am old enough to remember Reagan and his lovely policies that helped my family to do so well while the rest of the country got screwed, but I digress).

I'm talking about this Regan:

Or as she is known in our family:

Yes - It seems that The Queen has entered The Terrible Twos a few months early.  And if this is any indicator of what it is going to be like, she may not make it to three. 

This fit was tonight when I took a 3 lb barbell out of her hands because I didn't think that it was a great idea for her to be banging the glass coffee table in the living room with it (don't get excited:  any exercise equipment in my house is purely for decorative purposes). 

Of course, the fact that I was standing over her taking pictures rather than cuddling her probably didn't do much to soothe her, but shit!  She throws one of these fits hourly and every time you utter the word "No!".  And if she doesn't throw herself on the floor, she runs screaming out of the room or over to Prince #2 or Brad as if to say "Can you believe what that bitch said to me?".  She's already playing the men/boys in the house against me.

On the upside, she is still sorta cute, with the curly blonde hair and blue eyes...but I know that she is already plotting to use her good looks and charm to get what she wants.  Fortunately (or unfortunately), with me as her mother, she has zero chance of having large boobs.    Hey - she already thinks that we live in New Orleans, with the way she is always lifting her shirt at people!

Somebody forgot to mention to me how much different "girl tantrums" are from "boy tantrums".  Even the worst ones with the Princes could be stopped cold simply by handing them a Thomas the Train.  With The Queen?  Hers can go on for up to 30 minutes.

I can't wait for the teenage years!  We'll be fighting over whether or not clear heels make an appropriate church outfit!