I don't understand them. At all. Today, we were cleaning the living room ad Peter got a hold of one of Teddy's book. And ripped 3 pages out of it. Teddy was ok with it. "I like ripped things. Boys are supposed to like ripped things."
I don't know where he got that from. I don't know why he thinks ripped books are ok. And I wasn't sure how to react because of it. On the one hand, he wasnt getting upset, which I applaud. On the other hand, this is one time I wanted him to be angry.
And then, the little stinker came up to me unprompted and offered me his last piece of cotton candy.
It's always one way or the other. If they aren't driving me batty, they're making me laugh. Earlier, Teddy was dancing around in circles, making silly loud noises. And Peter followed him, doing the exact same thing. I love them. But I don't understand them. And I've heard it doesn't get any easier as they get older.