|"How'd you like those Legos I left in your coffee?"|
First off, thank you so much for your kind responses to Wednesday's post. You guys are the kindest people in the universe.
Secondly, someone save me because the baby is on the war path.
You know what's interesting about having children?
We'll come back to that. The baby's spitting milk all over the floor and trying to "vacuum" it up with a broken pogo stick. Aaaand now he's naked because he claims he's a "mess" and is trying to squeeze himself into a swim diaper.
Doc Holiday doesn't turn two until September, but close enough. Much like Hollywood relationships, my sweet, chubby recluse of a baby has moved swiftly into the arena of irreconcilable differences and high octane emotional breakdowns.
And we'll talk more about that as soon as I pull him out of the trashcan....
That's the funny thing about toddlers. They find a rogue beer can and they just have to be the one to throw it away. And then you find yourself in a ridiculous argument:
"Momma put that on the counter because she was going to throw it away."
"I do it."
"It should be done by a responsible adult."
"I fro trash."
"Ok, just tuck it in around the other ones."
The twins passed up the super irrational behavior so long ago, I'd kind of forgotten about this stage. Everything came rushing back to me, however, when I was soundly smacked between the eyes, three days ago.
"Did you just hit me with a spatula?"
"I just want to love you."
*Tries to hit me again.*
"I'm not sure this is going to work out."
Er, I have to go pull him out of the freezer. I swear I'll write the rest of this, just as soon as I save the last Sundae Cone. We have to tie the fridge shut now, and someone forgot to do that. Someone who has to go defend her ice cream. Excuse me.
(Also, anyone know of a quaint vendor who makes decorative padlocks? You never see Martha Stewart cover the functional things in life.)
Whew, the upper body strength on the kid. I tell ya. It's like wrestling a baby bear. Which is frustrating because I know almost nothing about bears and also because I don't workout.
And he's asking me to have a dance party on the couch. I won't say no because then he gets hysterical and starts throwing things.
Ever get hit in the head with a sippy cup? It's ok, I hear only two people a year die from that. Far more individuals lose their lives to rust poisoning, which is why I'm a little wary of taking a bit off the corroded spoon he found under the couch and is trying to shove in my mouth right now.
So, back to today's question.
It's something I'll get into as soon as I let him look at himself in the mirror. He considers himself fairly attractive and, admittedly, he's really cute. Which we all know is a survival mechanism.
What's interesting about having children?
I really have no idea, but I'll try to report back right after I listen to his air guitar solo. Nevermind, he's back in the freezer. Excuse me.
Until Next Time, Readers!
Until Next Time, Readers!