Home › Forums › Child Development & Challenges › Toddler tantrums… Is it just me or are they getting more intense?
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Okay, I just need to vent a little, or maybe just see if anyone else is in the thick of it too. Leo (my little guy, just turned two) has been having these… epic meltdowns lately. Like, full-on, throwing himself on the floor, screaming for what feels like an hour over a broken cracker. Seriously.
I try to stay calm, to connect, to understand what’s really going on beneath the surface, but sometimes I just feel so drained. I know it’s a phase, and he’s just expressing big feelings he can’t articulate, but my patience feels thin by dinnertime.
Today he lost it because his blue cup wasn’t *the right* blue cup, even though it was the *only* blue cup. It’s almost comical looking back, but in the moment… wow.
Just wondering how everyone else navigates these toddler storms. Any little tricks or just solidarity stories are welcome. It’s tough out there, right?
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Oh my goodness, KlaraS, yes. You are absolutely not alone. The “wrong” blue cup rings so true! Just yesterday, my little one decided the floor was the only acceptable place to eat half a banana because the *other* half was in my hand. The sheer logic of it sometimes just evaporates, doesn’t it?
I feel you on the drained part. It’s so hard to stay calm when you’re already running on fumes. I’ve been trying to remind myself that sometimes, for them, that ‘wrong’ blue cup or broken cracker feels like their whole meticulously constructed internal world just got a major jolt. It’s not about the object itself, but the unexpected shift from what they *thought* was going to happen. It’s like they’re grappling with this huge concept of things not always being predictable, and that’s such a big, overwhelming thing for a little brain to process, isn’t it? It doesn’t make the noise stop, but sometimes it just gives me a tiny bit of space to breathe and not take it so personally.
Hang in there. We’re all in this wild, beautiful, utterly confusing phase together.
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Oh KlaraS, your post hit home so hard. The ‘wrong blue cup’ is just *chef’s kiss* relatable. We had a full-blown crisis this morning because I poured milk into *her* cup and not *the* cup. The distinction is obviously very clear in her head, just not mine!
And Aoife, what you said about it being about their meticulously constructed internal world and the unexpected shift from what they thought was going to happen – that really resonates with me. I’ve been trying to frame it that way too, and it genuinely helps sometimes to just step back and remember it’s not a personal attack, but this huge, confusing moment for them.
I’ve been reading a lot lately about emotional development in toddlers, and I’m starting to think a lot of these intense outbursts are tied to them grappling with their emerging sense of self and autonomy. It’s like they’re discovering they have their own will, separate from ours, and then immediately bumping up against the limits of that will. It’s a massive cognitive leap, right? And when they can’t make something happen, or things don’t go exactly as they pictured, it’s not just disappointment, it’s almost like a crisis of their own agency. It doesn’t make the screaming less loud, but sometimes understanding that ‘why’ helps me stay a little more centered. I mean, it’s still draining by dinner, but I’m trying to see it as them learning to navigate their own powerful inner world. Solidarity, mama.
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KlaraS, oh my goodness, you’re describing my mornings sometimes! The ‘wrong blue cup’ is just… it’s like they have this perfect picture in their head, and any deviation feels like a betrayal. I feel you on the drained part. It’s so hard to keep my own heart from racing when my little guy is in the middle of one of those big, big feelings.
Just last week, we had a major meltdown because I gave him the ‘triangle’ cracker when he *clearly* wanted the ‘square’ one, even though they were from the same box and tasted identical. In that moment, for him, it wasn’t just a cracker. It was like his whole world was crumbling because something wasn’t exactly as he expected, and he just didn’t have the words to tell me how that felt.
I found myself just kneeling down, not trying to fix the cracker, but just putting my hand on his back and saying something like, “It’s so frustrating when things aren’t how you want them, isn’t it? It feels really unfair.” Just acknowledging *his* feeling, even if I don’t quite understand the depth of it over a cracker. It doesn’t always stop the tears right away, but sometimes, just that moment of being seen, really *seen* in his upset, helps him eventually find his way back. It helps me too, honestly, to remember that it’s not about me, it’s about him navigating these huge emotions that he’s still learning how to manage. It’s tough, but we’re here for these tiny, powerful people.
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Oh KlaraS, yes, you are absolutely not alone! The ‘wrong blue cup’ is just… chef’s kiss. It feels like I’m constantly trying to predict the exact shade of blue, or the specific bend in the straw, and if I’m off by a millimeter, it’s utter chaos. So Elara, the ‘triangle’ vs ‘square’ cracker resonated so deeply, it’s those little details that can feel so monumental to them.
And Aoife, what you said about it being a ‘crisis of their own agency’ and their ‘meticulously constructed internal world’ really stuck with me. I’ve been trying to wrap my head around why these seemingly tiny things spark such intense reactions. I’ve been thinking about how toddlers are just starting to understand patterns and cause-and-effect, right? Like, they’re building this internal map of how things *should* go. So when a cracker breaks, or the sock goes on before the pants (had a major meltdown over that yesterday!), it’s not just a minor annoyance for them. It’s almost like their whole predictive model of the universe just got a glitch. Their little brains are trying to process, ‘Wait, that’s not how it’s supposed to happen!’ and it’s a huge, overwhelming cognitive disconnect.
It doesn’t magically make the screaming disappear, obviously, but sometimes, for me, just having that frame of reference – that it’s a deep-seated moment of trying to reconcile their expectations with reality – helps me take a breath and not feel quite so personally attacked by the intensity. Still completely drained by 5 pm, but trying to see these as their incredibly intense learning moments. You’re definitely not alone in the thick of it!
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Aoife, yes, that ‘meticulously constructed internal world’ and the ‘predictive model’ getting a glitch really resonates with me. I’ve been trying to wrap my head around why these seemingly tiny things spark such intense reactions, and seeing it as a deep cognitive disconnect helps. For my little one, when his expectation is shattered, it’s not just a cognitive thing, it’s like this immense feeling of betrayal or confusion washes over him, and he just doesn’t have the words to tell me. It actually makes my heart ache to see him so utterly overwhelmed by something that seems so small to me. I try to remind myself that his feelings are just as huge and valid as mine, even if the trigger is a broken cracker. Sometimes, when he’s really spiraling over something like the wrong color crayon, I just get down on his level and hold him close, without trying to talk him out of it. Just letting him *feel* it, and letting him know I’m right there with him, can sometimes be the only way through. It’s incredibly hard to just be present in that storm with them, not trying to fix it or distract, but I find those are the moments of quiet connection that truly make a difference in the long run. Still completely wiped by dinner, absolutely, but those small moments of simply being there with him, really *with* him, are what I hold onto.
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Aoife, yes, that ‘predictive model’ getting a glitch really does explain so much of the intensity, doesn’t it? It’s like their whole world just wobbles. For me, what I’ve been trying to figure out is how to stay anchored when his world feels like it’s wobbling. KlaraS, you mentioned feeling so drained, and I completely get that. Sometimes when my little guy is in the middle of one of those absolute hurricanes, my own heart just starts thumping right along with his. It’s so hard to not let that overwhelm me too. But I’ve noticed that if I can just manage to take a deep breath and remind myself that his big feelings aren’t a reflection of *me*, but just *him* experiencing something huge, it helps me to just be there. I’ve found that sometimes when he’s really, really deep in a tantrum, just gently resting my hand on his back or even just sitting quietly next to him, without trying to talk him out of it, makes a difference. It’s like my calm can sometimes be a little anchor for his storm. It doesn’t always work instantly, but those moments of just being present, allowing him to feel it with me there, are the ones I cherish. It’s so tough to witness their distress, but I’m learning that sometimes my job isn’t to fix it, but just to feel it with him. Still exhausted by dinner, though, absolutely!
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KlaraS, I keep coming back to your original post about the intensity, because that’s exactly where I am so often. It’s truly draining, isn’t it, to feel their big feelings so acutely? Aoife, your point about their ‘predictive model’ getting a glitch, and how it’s almost a ‘crisis of agency’ for them – that’s been so helpful for me to think about. It’s like when my little guy is having one of those huge moments, like when his carefully stacked blocks tumble unexpectedly, it’s not just the blocks. It’s a complete shock to his understanding of how things *should* work, and then that overwhelming frustration just takes over his whole body. My heart just aches seeing him like that, utterly undone by something that seems small but feels so monumental to him. I’ve found myself just whispering to him, ‘It’s okay to feel upset, buddy. I see you.’ It feels like such a tiny thing to say in the middle of a storm, but sometimes, just that acknowledgment, without trying to stop the feeling, gives him a little bit of space. It’s so hard to do when you’re already stretched thin, but I truly believe that letting them feel it, and just being a calm, steady presence, is the best gift we can give them in those moments. We’re showing them that all feelings are okay, and that we’re a safe harbor. Still reach for the chocolate by 8 pm though! Sending so much solidarity.
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Oh KlaraS, yes, absolutely feeling that intensity. It’s like navigating a tiny, incredibly powerful storm every day, isn’t it? And Elara, your description of it feeling like a ‘betrayal’ or ‘confusion’ when their expectation is shattered really hits home. And Aoife, the ‘predictive model of the universe just got a glitch’ – that phrase has been living rent-free in my head since I read it!
I’ve been noticing something similar with my little one (he’s 2, so right in that sweet spot). It’s not always the *thing* itself, but the unexpected *deviation*. Like, if we always take the blue cup, and one day it’s in the dishwasher, and I offer the green one. It’s not that he hates green, it’s that the ‘cup script’ in his head just got completely rewritten without warning. And for them, that’s huge! Their whole world is built on understanding patterns, and when a pattern breaks, it’s like a momentary loss of control.
What I’ve been trying to figure out (and it’s still a work in progress!) is how to acknowledge that internal ‘glitch’ for him, without always giving in to the demand. So sometimes, instead of just saying ‘it’s just a green cup,’ I’ll try to say something like, ‘Oh, you wanted the blue one today, didn’t you? It’s gone for a wash, and that feels really disappointing.’ It doesn’t always stop the tears instantly, but I’m hoping that by naming the feeling and the *why* from his perspective (the broken pattern), I’m helping him build a bridge between that intense feeling and understanding what’s happening. It’s a tricky balance, but understanding that ‘predictive model’ idea has definitely given me a new lens. Still totally ready for a quiet moment by evening, though!
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Oh KlaraS, your post is my life right now! The “wrong blue cup” is so, so real. And Elara and Aoife, everything you’ve both been saying about the “predictive model of the universe” getting a glitch and the “crisis of agency” – that’s exactly where my brain has been going too! I’ve been reading so much lately trying to understand *why* these seemingly small things ignite such huge feelings.
My little guy (he’s just turned two) had a full-blown meltdown last week because we usually walk to the park, but it was raining so we had to take the stroller. It wasn’t about the stroller itself, or even the rain, but the complete unexpected deviation from our *usual* path and mode of transport. For him, I think it was like his mental map of how “park day” was supposed to unfold just completely disintegrated, and he just couldn’t process that disruption.
It doesn’t make the screaming less loud in the moment, of course, and I’m still completely wiped by dinner, but trying to see it as their intense learning process – figuring out that the world isn’t always predictable and that their will has limits – helps me a tiny bit. It gives me a different lens to look through when I’m trying to stay calm. So much solidarity to all of you in this phase!
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Oh KlaraS, your post about Leo and the ‘wrong’ blue cup hit me right in the heart. It’s so true, sometimes those little things just explode into such massive feelings for them, and it feels like it just drains you completely.
Elara, what you said about it feeling like a ‘betrayal’ when their perfect picture gets messed up really resonates. My little girl is just getting so fiercely independent lately, and sometimes when she tries to do something herself, like trying to get her favorite blanket out from under a pile of toys, and it just doesn’t go *exactly* how she planned, she gets so utterly undone. Her face just crumples, and my own stomach tightens watching her wrestle with that frustration.
I remember one time she was trying so hard to push a toy car, but it kept getting stuck on the rug. She just screamed, and threw herself down. My first instinct was to pick it up for her, to fix it, to make the bad feeling go away. But then I just knelt down next to her, not saying much, just putting my hand gently on her back. It felt like an eternity, but slowly, she just leaned into me, still sniffing, and eventually pointed to the car, and I just said, ‘It’s so hard when things don’t go the way you want, isn’t it?’ I didn’t try to solve the car problem right then, but just letting her know I saw her big feelings, and I was right there with her in that messy moment, felt like the most important thing. It’s so hard for me to see her struggle, and I get so anxious about her being upset, but sometimes just being there is enough. We’re definitely in the thick of it together.
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Oh KlaraS, your post is my life right now! The “wrong blue cup” is so, so real. And Elara and Aoife, everything you’ve both been saying about the “predictive model of the universe” getting a glitch and the “crisis of agency” – that’s exactly where my brain has been going too! I’ve been reading so much lately trying to understand *why* these seemingly small things ignite such huge feelings. My little guy (he’s just turned two) had a full-blown meltdown last week because we usually walk to the park, but it was raining so we had to take the stroller. It wasn’t about the stroller itself, or even the rain, but the complete unexpected deviation from our *usual* path and mode of transport. For him, I think it was like his mental map of how “park day” was supposed to unfold just completely disintegrated, and he just couldn’t process that disruption. It doesn’t make the screaming less loud in the moment, of course, and I’m still completely wiped by dinner, but trying to see it as their intense learning process – figuring out that the world isn’t always predictable and that their will has limits – helps me a tiny bit. It gives me a different lens to look through when I’m trying to stay calm. So much solidarity to all of you in this phase!
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