A good age

When people are getting acquainted, it is not unusual to hear an exchange something along the lines of:

"Oh, you have a child? How old?"

"18 months."

"That's a good age." (with warm sincerity)

Of course, any age can prompt this response. Back in the days Before Children, I might even have had some opinions on what was a good age. I can't remember what they were.

Any given child has good ages. For Ben, this was 2 and 4. For Charlie, it was up to 8 months. Maybe in other families there is a universal good age, but we've not found one yet. 35 perhaps?

On the other hand, 8-10 or 11 months has been pretty universally bad. It seems, in my kids at least, to herald a time of emerging will, without sufficient means to satisfy it. And so it is with Elissa. She's cranky at least as much as she's happy and it's all about frustration. Leaving me with absolutely nothing I can do about it.

Two was not a good age for Charlie, and I was hoping that three might be better. So far it isn't looking good. I don't think I am doing much of a job in helping him manage his anger. He is so wonderful in so many ways - really affectionate, wicked sense of humour, bizarre and delightful. Unfortunately the stubborn, angry side seems to get more press. I just don't feel like I'm getting anywhere. The net result is a little overwhelming. And definitely involves too much yelling and narkiness from me. It might be time for me to do some more reading and get some new inspirations for new approaches. Something needs to give. And I can only wait out Elissa's difficult age.