Because the discussion of shapes is just not cool.

It's Saturday!  Hooray for that since I've had something going every morning morning this week.  Today's gonna be a little more relaxed as we're still in our PJ's and I made pancakes for breakfast this morning.

That was perhaps where I went wrong.  Because you see, as I was dishing Nate up another pancake, I asked Finleigh what shape the pancake was.

A perfectly reasonable question to ask a 3 year old, right?

Apparently not.

I asked her the question in my happy mommy voice with a smile on my face and she?  How should I describe her reaction?  Oh ya... total melt down.  Suddenly she was on the floor freaking out.  Top of her lungs screaming and feet kicking at the air.

Oh how I love my life.

You know, I get that she's still trying to learn how to regulate her emotions.  I get that she has challenges with being able to communicate because she's not talking much yet.  I get that 2 and 3 year olds have tantrums...but when my darling daughter goes from happily eating her pancakes to flat on the floor because I asked her a simple question that I'm pretty sure she knows the answer to and that I would have asked any other child in a similar circumstance, well a little part of me dies.

Okay, that was maybe a tad bit dramatic, but honestly I take a deep breathe and remind myself not to lose it.  I put away my expectations and then try to deal with the horrible, grating tantrum that no amount of intervention or distraction or hugging or talking can seem to dissipate.  Then to top it off, she reached her hand up and touched the griddle - that I had already told her twice was too hot to touch - and burned her little finger.  Which energized her explosion, especially when I put her fingers under cold running water.

The best part of this all is that this wasn't even her first one this morning.  Or, I'm sure, her last.

It's hard not to question my parenting.  It's probably just a phase or something chemical or physical or developmental causing the relative peace in our home to be completely shattered, but who knows?  It could be me.