This morning was a prime example of why toddlers are so much fun. My Little Man is 21 months old now, and he is as headstrong as they come. When he woke up this morning, he decided that he wanted a yogurt. Without so much as a glance my direction, he walked into kitchen, opened the fridge, and grabbed a yogurt. He went to the drawer and pulled out a spoon (his spoons are the only things in reach in the drawers thanks to the locks), then helped himself into his highchair. I tried helping, which led to him screaming "no no" to me. My independent Little Man.

While he was eating his yogurt, which I had opened for him, we got around for the day. When it was time to take Angel Baby and Monster Man to school, I got him out of the highchair and dressed him in a hurry. I started ushering everyone out the door, and he grabbed the rest of his yogurt. "No yogurt in the truck" I said, pulling the yogurt cup out of his hands. Tantrum number 1 began. I carried him, kicking and screaming, and managed to buckle him in his car seat.

When we got home from dropping the kids off at school, I decided to clean some trash out of the truck. I took the keys out of the ignition, put them in my pocket, and set him in the driver's seat to play while I cleaned the truck out. When I finished, he started pointing at the ignition, wanting me to put the keys in the truck. I realized then that he thought he could drive. I told him no, and tried to get him in the house. Tantrum number 2. I carried him, kicking and screaming, back into the house, somehow managing to unlock the front door.

We got into the house, and he decided he wanted to go back outside. He kept trying to open the door. I told him no, that it was too cool to play outside right now. Tantrum number 3 began. I left him, kicking and screaming, by the closed front door.

After he calmed down, he decided he wanted some applesauce. He walked to the fridge, opened the door, and pulled out the jar of applesauce. I grabbed a bowl, put the remainder of the applesauce (only a few spoonfuls) into the bowl, and buckled him in his highchair so he could eat it. When the last of the applesauce was gone, he wanted more. "Mama! Ma-MA! MA MA!" each time getting progressively louder. I walked to him, asked him what he wanted, and he pointed at the bowl. "No more. It's all gone" I told him. Tantrum number 4 started. I left him, kicking and screaming, in his highchair, walked to the fridge, grabbed the rest of the yogurt from tantrum number 1, and said "Eat this." He continued to kick and scream until I walked away, then stopped screaming and began eating the yogurt.

By this point, we were an hour and half into our day.

Of course, for every tantrum he throws, there are about 100 hugs, 500 giggles, and 1,000 smiles. He finds delight in all the small things, and you can't help but love him.