There are some stages kids go through that are just so cute you want to burn them into your memory forever. You know that time passes so quickly that precious details are lost; hopefully the things that made you smile in between your tears and teeth-gnashing are thing that survive the trip to old age.
And then there are those stages that you long to forget - but suspect you never will. The getting-up-every-few-hours phase. The "night time is for play" phase. The phase, around the two to three year old mark, where meltdowns come thick and fast every day and seem to last an inordinately long time.
Currently we are in another phase that grates on the parental nerves. The phase where everyone is constantly telling on everyone else; where every insult, nudge and slap between siblings takes on the severity of a first-degree assault, and where the wailing that accompanies a stubbed toe could wake the dead.
It started when my son started school. I found myself, each day, confronted with two or three of his classmates telling me how naughty my son had been. I'd then collar the teacher and ask if my son was being the little Beelzebub depicted by his tiny friends. She would roll her eyes, and explain that all day long she has one child or another narking on another for the most minor infraction - "Miss, he looked at me in a mean way""; "Miss, he touched my shoulder" and so on.
The problem for me was that my son brought this charming new quality home with him, and now he and his three-and-a-half year old sister are constantly running to me with the evidence of major crimes being committed over the plastic tea cups. That's if I don't hear the wailing first. Sometimes the weapon chosen can actually inflict some pain - and the contraband bin is now full of things like small baseball bats, plastic golf clubs, web slingers and even a wooden mallet. Word to the wise: a wooden mallet is not a great present for a three year old boy!