toddlerhood -- it's all it's cracked up to be

My sweet adorable baby is hitting the terrible twos a month and a half before his second birthday. Today, I tried to brush his teeth before putting him down for a nap and he threw a fit. He flailed his arms, refused to open his mouth, cried and whined. I tried a few tactics (I'm going to count to five and then I'm going to brush your teeth, After I brush your teeth you can put the toothbrush back in the holder (he loves doing that), Knock it off and let me brush your teeth (said sternly)) and when they didn't work he started hitting me. He slapped me on the face a few times. After each time he looked at me for my reaction, which was shock and anger, and then he'd laugh while I said, "No hitting! Hands are not for hitting. Do not hit. No hitting." Maybe he laughed because he thought it was funny to see my shocked expression, or because he thought it was a game, or because he's evil (I know he isn't)). Then I could not help smiling at him laughing at me. I know that my smiling ruined the disciplining and possibly made him think it really was a game. We continued in this manner for a few seconds longer. Then I brought him into our guest room and told him the same thing I told him in the bathroom, this time without a trace of a smile.

I brought him back into the bathroom to brush his teeth and he hit me again, this time I cried. It wasn't calculated to make him feel remorse. I was frustrated and angry and at a loss. He hit me a few more times while I knelt on the floor crying. He may have been hitting me then because he didn't like the way my crying was making him feel. I picked him up, changed his diaper while ignoring his pleas for me to get him this and that toy, and told him how angry I was that he was hitting me. After he was clean and dressed again he stood up and swung his arm at my face again, but I caught it and backed away so he couldn't reach me. In a disappointed and controlled voice I told him how disappointed I was that he was hitting and that I was angry and sad about it.

I put him on my lap and reiterated what I had just said. He gently put his hand on my face and stroked my cheek saying, "nice, nice." I told him how much I like it when he's nice and gentle and that I love him. I sang Old MacDonald, told him that I love him and put him in his crib for his nap. He's upstairs now, and I can take some time and get some perspective.

I thought being a zombie from lack of sleep was tough -- this is much harder.