The Tale of the Tiny Tyrant


I’ve never believed the hype about the temper of the red-head. After all, the red-heads in my life (sister, cousin, nieces) are all sweet and nice. Even our eldest, while not exactly the calmest yogi at the meditation retreat, only has flashes in the pan when it comes to anger. I didn’t even really buy into ‘the terrible twos’. Then our littlest red-head turned two and became the Tiny Tyrant.

Now our household faces the ever present fear that at any moment someone might, inexplicably, awaken the banshee-screaming, body clenched and shaking, uncontrollable rage of the little one. You don’t know what you did, you don’t know how to make it better*, all you can do is stay out of the way, while you woefully think,

I’ve angered it again.

*I’d like to note that I made the observation, that just as my husband gets to see what he is like to live with as we endure the endless energy and sound coming from our eldest, that now I get to see what it is like for him to live with me when I am faced with this kind of ‘what did I do, how do I fix it’ issue. However, if stand-up comedy routines are to be believed, I think this is a common condition of marriage and not particular to me.


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