There's no rage like the rage of a two year old

Oh, a new stage of fits has hit the Ingram household. Too bad Stephen is missing this one.

The raging Patrick.

A fit over what, exactly, remains to be discovered. But the fit is still raging. Can't keep him in his room because he bursts through the baby gate; he proceeds to ram into the kitchen wall, ending up with a fleck of paint on his tooth and a mark on the wall. Does that stop him? Oh no.

So I try to hold him and be nicer...help him to calm down, you know. The Dalai Lama says "parents should be calmer."

Then he bites me. My first child bite. He BIT me! on my arm! I am still a bit shocked. And it still hurts. Those were sharp little teeth! So much for being a calmer parent.

So the backwards-underwear clad little monster is now in his room, still crying. After the biting incident, he has ceased storming the blockade and is just wearing away at my sanity a bit at a time with his half-hearted screaming. Oh, Patrick.

There is no rage like the rage of a two year old.