No, really, it's the Terrific Twos.

For those of you keeping score - it's now four tantrums in the last 24 hours. Two major, two minor.

The one last night was because I insisted - irrationally, I suppose - that Calla come to dinner. Kicking, screaming, prone on the floor. The best part was when Joe walked in from mowing the lawn, she managed to scream out "Daddy, I'm crying!" As if he couldn't tell. Really, quite an impressive show.

Number 2 was at 5:30 this morning, after an unscheduled (but necessary) diaper change. She admitted she was still sleepy, as was I, but only wanted to go back to sleep on blankets on the floor. Again, irrational Mom insisted on the crib. Screaming ensues.

Three and Four were relatively minor, yet still demonstrating good form: insisting on a particular cereal at breakfast that couldn't be found and then later, anger at Joe's refusal to allow her to eat graham crackers for second breakfast.

So, we're taking a break from each other right now. I'm sipping a small cup of half-caf, and Calla's engrossed in Sesame Street.

It's not yet 9:30. I'm still in my pajamas. Three-and-a half hours to nap time. I can make it.