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?

Mama Versus the Volcano

Mama told me a tantrum story the other day...

She took Beatrice to the playground where they usually go two to three times per week -- swings, slides, sandboxes and lots of climbing fun.

We have a bag of outdoor toys she brings for Bea as well, including digging tools and bouncy balls.

There was another little boy playing with a pink ball.

Bea's ball was red.

Bea wanted the pink ball.

But by that time it was time to leave, so Mama gathered up all the toys and grabbed Bea's hand to take her to the car.

Then the toddler tantrum erupted, red face seethed with tears spilling from her eyes, angry babble shooting from her mouth.

"Nah-nah-nah-nah-nah-nah!"

No!

She broke loose and ran toward the boy with the pink ball.

"Beatrice, come back here! We're leaving, sweetie."

No effect. Mama had to run after Bea and scoop her up.

Molten lava oozed from Bea's every pour.

"Nah-nah-nah-nah-nah-nah!"

They walked away and Mama put her down. Zoom -- she was off again to the boy with the pink ball.

"Beatrice! No."

Now, I don't know if you've ever picked up an erupting, almost 30-pound toddler before, but try doing it when you're 8 months pregnant with a bag of toys in the other hand.

Mama ran after her and scooped her up again.

New islands formed in the seas of Bea's angry tears.

"Nah-nah-nah-nah-nah-nah!"

This time Mama got farther away from the little boy with the pink ball, thinking that it was far enough to put Bea down and get her closer to the car.

Zoom -- back she went to the boy and the pink ball.

Exasperated and exhausted, Mama ran to get Bea again and this time hauled her all the way back to the car, Bryce getting a drive-by belly thrashing along the way. She strapped Bea into the car seat and gave her a hug and a kiss.

"Nah-nah-nah-nah-nah-nah!"

Lava buried the back seat and flowed into the front.

"I love you, baby. Let's go home."

***

Tantrums. Can't live with them. Can't live without them.

Bea's are usually short-lived. Usually. With rare exception as related above.

We were just asking each other last night what to do, what to do...

Let's AskDrSears.com!

On Parenting.com, another mother did ask Dr. Sears:

My 17-month-old's tantrums have become absolutely intolerable. He cries hysterically until, within a couple minutes, he throws up. The only way to calm him down is to distract him or to give him whatever it is he wants. I know it's not good for me to cater to his every whim, but I get so frustrated, I don't know what else to do. How can I temper my son's excessive tantrums?

Throws up? Good God.

We're pretty darn lucky.

You can read his detailed answer here, but here are the bullets to consider:

• Identify the triggers. Is he tired, bored, hungry, or frustrated?
• Identify the purpose of the tantrums. Tantrums come in two forms: frustration tantrums and manipulative tantrums. Know the difference.
• Teach him alternative ways of expressing his feelings. Part of childhood development is learning what language gets one's needs met and what doesn't.
• Know your anger tolerance. If you lose patience easily when your child throws a tantrum, know when to walk away. (But not literally in a crowded mall or congested intersection.) Count to 10 and take a deep breath. Know the difference.
• Know when to intervene. In extreme cases, "holding therapy" works best. Hold your child in a relaxed and comforting way (even if he squirms) and reassure him with the most soothing voice you can muster. (We've done that. Mama has more luck than me, though.)

Dr. Sears writes, "Temper tantrums usually end between 18 months and 2 years of age, when a child develops the language skills necessary to express his feelings with words rather than actions. So when you're at your wit's end, remember: This too shall pass."

Most of the time we can let her go and ride them out. Then all is well again. As if nothing ever happened.

Until the next time, when 20 minutes after we put her to bed, she howled and cried and then writhed in our arms -- lava everywhere!

Let's work on those words, Beatrice.

Love you.

The B tantrum classic – “Not the mama, not the mama!”

A couple of months ago we were going for stroll/hike with little Bea up at Henry Cowell State Park, and right before we left we witnessed this exchange between a mother and young daughter:

The young daughter cried and whined while walking quickly away from her mother.

The mother called out, "You know, four-year-olds don't throw tantrums."

The daughter fired back, "Oh yes they do!"

Classic.

Last night, little Bea played on the floor with Daddy, laughing and gurgling and talking baby jive (excuse me stewardess, I speak jive), while Mama worked on the computer.

Then Bea was done. And as I held her in my arms trying to keep her calm, she threw an infant tantrum – flailing her legs, making fists, burying and rubbing her face against my chest, drooling and snotting on my chest, and crying with a reverse wheeze on the inhale.

Classic.

I commented on Facebook and one of friends reminded me of that old Jim Henson production from the early 90s titled Dinosaurs. Every time the daddy dinosaur got close to the baby dinosaur, the baby would cry out, "Not the mama, not the mama!"

Classic.

I don't take the infant tantrums personally because they aren't personal. They're primal. Beatrice just wanted Mama and Mama's milk, plain and simple.

Here's a great tip from an expert on BabyCenter.com:

Babies have an amazing — and often aggravating — ability to make demands. But your baby needs to know that you care about her feelings, even when she expresses them by screaming or flailing her fists. It may look like she's throwing a fit, but she's really seeking reassurance. As long as you stick with your original decision — for instance, that she can't play with the remote control — no one can accuse you of "giving in." You're just giving her what she needs.

But, when Bea wants the boobs, I can't give her what she needs – not the mama, not the mama.

Sigh.