Where's my sweet boy?

It's official: Christmas is over. The tree is put away, the lights taken down and all the garland and wreaths packed up. If only I could pack up Cooper's bad attitude with it. My kid is spoiled rotten!

Along with the plethora of toys he got for Christmas, he also received a nicely wrapped bad attitude to go with them. As much difficulty as I am having at finding a place to put all of his new stuff, his attitude is much bigger than any new recliner, Batman toy or jumping horse we got.

It started out small, like most negative things do: he just didn't want to get out of bed and get dressed in the mornings. That small task was enough to blow up into a huge fit about eating breakfast, putting on his coat or whose house we were going to for the day. I've been screamed at, he has thrown himself on the floor kicking and screaming and now he is at the hitting stage.

When he is angry, he hits me. When he doesn't get his way, he hits me. When he doesn't want to do something I asked of him, he hits me. It wouldn't be so bad if he was sorry he hit -- but he will hit, then sit in time out screaming, "I'm not sorry, I'm not sorry, I don't love you!"

This used to just be a problem at home, but he is now bringing his hatefulness out in public. The other night at Grammy's house, she asked him to pick up his toys and he told her no. She asked a few more times nicely, with him again responding no. He then took his toys and started throwing them across the room, yelling, "No, I not go home! I not clean toys!" This of course ended with the end-of-the-world temper tantrum (that I am so used to lately) because Grammy had "the gall" to tap his behind.

The worst yet was our yearly after-Christmas trip to Hobby Lobby. He was a decent little 2-year-old boy in the store, but once we got back out in the parking lot he started screaming, "No, don't touch me! No, I want my Daddy, I want my Mommy! No, don't touch me," over and over at the top of his lungs. The other customers in the parking lot just stopped and stared. I'm pretty sure that they thought I was kidnapping my own child. I watched the news that night waiting to see a grainy cellphone photo of myself stealing my child, followed by a tips hotline number.

I know what you all are going to tell me: it's the terrible 2s, it is a rite of passage, you will get through this, he will grow out of it. I know that you are right, but a slight, minuscule part of me can't help but wonder if this is really my child or if is he possessed, like some horror movie. My husband would agree with the latter, but I guess I will hold strong to the hope that in October, at the age of 3, he will magically stop being a demon and become my sweet boy again.

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Kristen Pind, a native of small-town Gower, Mo., came to Southeast Missouri State University with big dreams of being the next Katie Couric or Diane Sawyer. She never thought that by age 25, she'd be married with a baby and living in Cape Girardeau. Keep up with Kristen's adventures as a first-time mom -- one who's still a girl trying to figure out how her own life fits together. Turns out, she's living a dream she never knew she had, and loving every minute of it. Kristen invites moms of all types to find her "Baby Steps" page on Facebook.