Ah, two, or more specifically, two-and-a-half. The range of feeling in a day. In an hour. In a moment. The only thing more emotionally exhausting than being the parent of a developmentally on-target two-and-a-half-year-old has got to be being a developmentally on-target two-and-a-half-year-old.
At the end of Act IV in The Taming of the Shrew, Petruchio, when he was mind-f-ing his lady love into submission, made more sense than my dear lil’ monkey does on many a day. Substitute the lil’ monkey for Petrichio, and poor longsuffering Baba for Katharina, and it all fits:
Come on, i’ God’s name; once more toward our father’s.
Good Lord, how bright and goodly shines the moon!
The moon! the sun: it is not moonlight now.
I say it is the moon that shines so bright.
I know it is the sun that shines so bright.
Now, by my mother’s son, and that’s myself,
It shall be moon, or star, or what I list,
Or ere I journey to your father’s house.
Go on, and fetch our horses back again.
Evermore cross’d and cross’d; nothing but cross’d!
Say as he says, or we shall never go.
Forward, I pray, since we have come so far,
And be it moon, or sun, or what you please:
An if you please to call it a rush-candle,
Henceforth I vow it shall be so for me.
I say it is the moon.
I know it is the moon.
Nay, then you lie: it is the blessed sun.
Then, God be bless’d, it is the blessed sun:
But sun it is not, when you say it is not;
And the moon changes even as your mind.
What you will have it named, even that it is;
And so it shall be so for Katharina.
Okay, well. I’m not always so well-collected as to say “An if you please to call it a rush-candle/ Henceforth I vow it shall be so for me.” It’s more like, “Fine! Have it your way! It’s a frickin’ rush-candle! Now can we please just get into the carseat?!”
[Later note: Sound far-fetched? Don’t just take my word for it, listen to Dooce.]