B-hives are faster than the speed of light

Scientists claim they're discovered particles that travel faster than the speed of light, potentially upending Einstein's theory of relativity.

They never studied the emotional cores of three-year-old preschooler and her one-year-old sister.

The rapid incremental changes our girls have gone through in their little lifespans is mind boggling.

One life-change "particular" in a vacuum doesn't attract much attention, but in combination with a gazillion more zooming B-trinos, it's pretty astounding.

Beatrice just turned three this week, and in the past two weeks alone of going to preschool her language has exploded and her ability to understand direction and structure is coming along nicely. Wish we could say that about her potty training, but at least potty time at school is helping. Hey, we embrace the child-centered method. Back off.

However, her emotional outbursts and meltdowns have erupted like the thorns of a beautiful buganvilla. Terrible 2's? How about the thorny 3's?

Yes, I just made that up. No need to shake your head and sigh.

So Mama and I have a hypothesis, that the B-hive is faster than the speed of light. We're early in our testing, but if our preliminary results have shown anything, they've shed the slower, more reflective light on our girls and girl power.

And speaking of the slower light, you'd think a three-year-old isn't capable of reflecting on her own young life to date, but then again, we wonder...

Happy Birthday Beatrice. It's only just begun.

The T2's and geothermal HazMat control. Mercy.

Pulling the cat's tail wasn't what I had in mind.

But Bea had other ideas.

The usual scenario at bedtime, until last night that is, included me or Mama taking Beatrice up to her room to read a few more books and then hit the crib hay. The other one of us would handle the lil' Bryce.

My first indication that things were going to go very wrong was when she shrieked and slapped at me unhappily in her room and then ran to ours, wanting to jump on our bed, which usually happens in the mid-mornings in her princess dress and/or a cowboy hat.

Our 300-year-old cat Chelsea curled up peacefully on the bed, her old bones --

~BOUNCE~
~BOUNCE~
~BOUNCE~

-- jarred suddenly by the bouncing Bea.

Then ~PLOP~ Bea lands right next to Chelsea's tail and starts pulling on it.

Yanking actually. Yanking and giggling.

Chelsea hissed. Bea giggled.

"Stop it, Beatrice. You're hurting the kitty."

That means nothing to a 2-year-old child. Nada. She just giggled longer and louder.

More yanking and hissing and yanking and hissing.

The thing is, I didn't want to daddy-handle her and hurt her feelings and/or unintentionally hurt her period.

But she was out of friggin' control.

"Stop it, Beatrice!"

Finally I removed the old cat from the bed and that just made Bea all the more determined to follow kitty and yank-giggle-yank.

Before Bea tried to tromp downstairs after the cat, I grabbed her arms and gently (but firmly) guided her into her room where she proceeded to dissolve into a howling and thrashing melt down.

Straight through the center of the earth, out the other side, and back again.

I had to call Mama upstairs for backup geothermal HazMat control. Mercy.

Would this be a glimpse of the T2's? The terrible unbearable tantrum 2's that can liquefy anything in its wake?

Yes, but at least I've found another calorie burner for slowing metabolisms.

Always a silver lining, you know?