Two Year Olds

Two year olds get a bad rap.

Like a pubescent male, they are undergoing a very big life change in a very short time.

Boys' voiceses change, two year olds come into the human condition.

Recently empowered by their ability to scream opinions and move about freely, they see the things they want and bellow if they do not get them. The rest of the world (Mom and Dad mostly) are constantly having to tell them the proper way to behave, and correct them if they don't.  Frustration, hair loss, and exhaustion ensue.

But for a solid year, the two year old keeps on keepin' on.

Then, after loosing battle after battle; after being stopped, told no, spanked, and put in time out; after so constantly being repressed, they turn three, and realize they cannot win.

They cannot be exactly who they want to be.  As soon as they wander a little ways on their own path and realize how far they are into unfamiliar territory, they scream in terror and run back to the Mom or Dad that was left musing over which juice to buy in the other grocery aisle.

I think I'm like that sometimes.  Sometimes I want to wander off on my own and do what I want to do, but after being there for a little while I realize, with a gasp of panic: I have no idea what I am doing.

Luckily, Jesus never gets distracted by the apple juice; he is walking right along side me, waiting for me to come back and do what is best for me: his plan for my life.  Every time I insist I have learned my lesson. "I will not wander alone again."  But then, a few days, a few weeks, a few months later, I find myself doing it again.  Wandering off, screaming in panic, running back to Jesus.

After all, it wouldn't be called the Terrible Twos if they learned their lesson the first time.