My daughter has changed. Again.

It happens every few weeks or so. I notice a new knowing look in her eye, a new turn of phrase or a new talent in the drawing or jigsaw puzzle department. This current change has been all about the sass.

I’m living with a two year old who would give a 15 year old with a huge rebellious streak a run for her money. There have been moments during the past week where I’ve literally been left open mouthed at the way Frog has spoken to me or her dad. We’ve had to wander out of the room scratching our heads, asking each other, “Did she really just say that?”

Take tonight, for example. Already angry that her order for “MUMMY dry hair!!!” had been ignored, Frog was on a roll. As the (self-proclaimed) Northern Love Machine tried to coax her into her Christmas pyjamas, our little dictator lay on the floor and banged her fists hard into the carpet.

“NOOOO Daddy! I want BUTTERFLY ones! I want butterfly ones NOW!!!” She screamed.

When she was given the chosen PJs (sometimes you have to pick your battles) she stopped shouting, calmly put on her trousers then stood up, raised her hand in the direction of her father and demanded, “Don’t look at me Daddy. DO NOT LOOK AT ME!!!”

This was nothing compared to the Tuesday drama though. The Tuesday drama involved a swimming lesson and a car seat, neither of which my little diva wanted to include in her planned afternoon.

As I opened the car door and attempted to lift Frog into her seat, she turned to me and calmly ordered me to “Put down Mummy. Put ME down!” I huffed something about, “Do it yourself then” and stood back.

It was then that my fiercely independent child swung round to face me and shouted – in the middle of a busy car park – “I NOT BABY ANYMORE MUMMY!”

Quite.

Can someone please tell me there’s a rule somewhere that states unruly, bossy toddlers turn into angelic teenagers? Please? Anyone?

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