“I’M the boss,” shouted my two-year-old daughter, as she put her hands on her hips and stomped her feet, mid-tantrum.

Ah, oh. Can someone tell me exactly how did the youngest person in the house end up being our ruler? Am I not meant to be the boss?  

When my second child, a beautiful miracle of a baby girl, came into the world she was such a perfect newborn. I felt euphoric, kept humming Stevie Wonder’s 1976 hit single “Isn’t She Lovely” and wondered if I had lucked out and somehow I was being rewarded by the universe with a much-mythologised but elusive “unicorn” baby this time (see below for definition).

But now it seems to me that the boss baby was just storing up her energies in those first few weeks to lull me into a false place of security before the fun and games really started.

Baby boss never wanted to be a baby. Her babyhood was fleeting as she raced through the milestones. In a blink of an eye she was a miniature person, walking confidently around and talking at her first birthday. No more highchairs, prams weren’t too far behind, then came the insisting that she dress herself. Watching a one-year-old attempt to dress herself is excruciating, made worse by the fact that if I even touched the clothes or tried to assist she would scream, take off the clothes and start all over again.

“I do it myself,” was her first full sentence at about 18 months when she decided she wanted to take a shower on her own rather than have a bath.   

People give me knowing smiles, they laugh at the anecdotes but their faces start to wince as I describe the full impact of the baby boss’ tyranny.  

How I had to carry her into day care screaming as she decided at the tender age of two that she would like to buckle up her own seatbelt. “I do it myself!” she screamed. How I put her in time out in the corner of the shopping centre and her screams echoed far and wide. Kind folks came past, tried to cajole and distract her but she wouldn’t have a bar of that. She never lets things go or forgets.  

“Whoa, she’ll be a great future leader someday,” people sweetly say to me. “She’s adorable but it’s clear she’s got you all wrapped around her little finger,” my colleague told me. “You were never like this,” says my mum.  

I admire my daughter’s strength and determination. May it serve her well and I can’t wait to see where this tenacious little girl goes in her life. Nothing will stand in her way. But right now it’s time that baby boss relinquishes her power. Mummy needs to lead the family.

Gulp. Wish me luck!   

Definition of the Unicorn Baby

• Sleeps well. All night long, leaving parents refreshed and energised.
• Seamlessly fits into family life, is easy-going, adaptable and never cries for no reason.
• Enjoys long naps in the pram while mum shops, exercises and chats on the phone with friends. Will happily be passed around to others for cuddles and smiles.   
• Fictitious character, invented by desperately exhausted mums!