Spawn has entered that wonderful phase known as “The Terrible Twos,” and he’s playing the part with a vengeance. He’s a spoiled brat, really, because we’re all suckers, and even though he’s adorable, he’s also a terrifying little demonic child. His thing right now is scratching. If he wants something and you don’t give it to him, he’ll attack you, punching and kicking and scratching and pulling hair.
I babysit him three days out of the week, and he gets twice as mad when someone who’s not Mom or Dad dares to deny him anything. I do deny him things, of course, so I constantly have scratch marks on my arms. (Little bugger scratches hard.) There’s one on my face, too, low on my cheek, that he scratched so hard it bled. I have a little scar there, now. That day was a bad day. I ended up in tears and overwhelmed and angry, and had to pass him off to Jade to watch while I bandaged myself up and recuperated.
That’s not to say that he’s always bad. He talks in cute little baby talk, where about half of it is real words mangled almost beyond recognition and the other half is just sounds, and says my name when he wants things, and twirls around with his arms out going “Whooooooooah,” and gets overexcited when watching movies, and colors with a very serious, intense expression on his face. He’s doing it right now, while I write, every now and then holding up his drawing so I can ooh and aah over it.
However, I will be very glad when he grows out of the Terrible Twos.