V's other new thing, aside from KISS, is screaming. All-out, full-body, top-of-my-lungs, help-me-you-idiots screaming. I imagine I probably did this as a child, too, as I am known throughout Hendrum for my temper. (I exaggerate. Or rather, my mother does). But I was suprised to see the Johnson rage rear its ugly head so early with my offspring. We are managing, through a three-pronged approach of ignoring, distracting, and drinking heavily, to weather this storm. Now normally, Jess and I can compare notes when the kids hit a certain stage. Teething? Walking? Will went first. Talking? V's arena. Sweet-tempered Will, however, has not inherited the Johnson rage, apparently, but instead his father's observant tendencies. In their carseats in cold December sunlight, this makes for a lovely contrast.
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