The little guy can be the sweetest person on the planet, and then, in the blink of an eye, he can become a holy terror. It is enough to drive a person mad! One minute he will be hugging you, kissing you, telling you he loves you and just generally being the best baby boy I have ever met (not biased at all…). The next minute he will have dropped something or broken something or made a mess of everything I had just managed to clean and then demand that I pick it up, fix it, or put it away for him.
For instance, he spilled his juice for the umpteenth time this morning (I lost count between 5 and 500 – and yes, I do use sippy cups) so I handed the rag to him. He looked at me as if I had two heads and a snake coming out of my mouth and said, “No. Mommy do it. Mommy clean up.” I argued back and forth with him for way too long for my own sanity before he ran off, screaming with laughter, continuing his rant about “Mommy do it! Mommy do it!” Well, I was beat by the logic of a two year old. I’m still scratching my head on that one. Short of grabbing his scrawny arm and wiping the mess up with it (which I’m sure in some circles would get the pitchforks gathered around my house for child abuse) I was left with nothing to do but wipe it up myself.
Then, at lunch time, he spilled some shredded cheese on his seat. Guess what happened? Oh yeah, the same dance from snack time with the same chant that is really starting to get on my nerves. After a morning of this I decided I had endured enough and did the next best thing to caging him and shipping him off to join the circus – I locked him in his room and forced him to take a nap. Bad Mommy? Maybe. I think it’s probably the best option out of all of the other things I was thinking of doing with him.
It is like living with Napoleon, or how I imagine living with Napoleon would be. He is tiny for his age but so certain of his role as ‘boss’ in the house that he will do anything in his power to get you to do something for him. If he doesn’t get his way he will shriek the most ear-splitting scream that I want to yell right back at this diminutive dictator. I want to cage him like I can the puppy when he gets out of line. I want to rip my hair out of my head and stick forks in my ears to stop the ringing.
Fortunately for me I haven’t done any of these things, because this, like all trials and tribulations of living with a two year old, will soon pass. Then I would be left with sparse hair and no hearing and that would be no fun when I try and intimidate his dates when he starts dating. Actually, maybe I should just get it over with now, because I’m sure there will be no rest for this wicked Mama for the rest of her life. Then, when that was done, I could come up with other delightful ways of inflicting pain on myself. I will get back at him one day, though. I just have to figure out the right mode for revenge…
Sometimes, though, I wonder at the legality of caging him. Do you think anyone would tell on me?
|How could I lock up that face? I'm screwed.|