Third time around, toddlerhood is like labour. You know it’s going to hurt. But you always forget just how much until you’re doing it again. Today, I spent the day p***ing my toddler off. This was HIS interpretation, I should add. Here’s 8 ways in which I ruined his life today, according to him.
I made his porridge too hot. Sorry, Goldilocks.
I suggested he wear sandals. It being THE HOTTEST DAY OF THE YEAR and all. Nope. He wouldn’t have it. Rubber Spiderman wellies. That’s what he insisted on wearing. ALL DAY. Like, HOW hot must his feet have been?
I wouldn’t pick him up and carry him. It being THE HOTTEST DAY OF THE YEAR. But he couldn’t walk, he just couldn’t. His words. I think I made it worse when I pointed out that maybe the hot, sweaty wellies weren’t helping.
I stopped him from killing himself. Always a spoilsport, that’s me. Stopped him from playing by the road. Stopped him from climbing a ladder. Stopped him from trying to amputate his fingers on the bifold doors. None of which he thanked me for. No siree. I’m just that irritating woman who ruins ALL his fun.
I shouted at him. At this point, I’d like to resort to his level and say that I DID NOT SHOUT FIRST. He shouted at me. At which point I may have raised my voice by way of response. *May.*
I looked at him. Sometimes, I’m not allowed to look at him. I think a stroppy, slightly psychotic toddler may have inspired that saying, ‘If looks could kill.‘
I gave his dinner to his sister. He didn’t want to eat his dinner. And because I’m well over the ‘Eat your dinner,‘ game, tonight when he refused to eat it, I gave it to his hungry sister. 10 minutes later he decided he wanted it and was HORRIFIED when I mentioned where it now was.
I asked him to go to bed. We had a totally new reason why he couldn’t go to bed, tonight. Apparently, his bedroom was NOT his bedroom. He denied all knowledge of ever having seen it or been in it. ‘That’s not my bedroom,’ he said convincingly. ‘Look at it! IT’S NOT MINE.‘ I didn’t quite know how to answer that one. Maybe that excruciatingly painful series of ‘That’s Not My…‘ books could write a book on THAT.
I can’t wait for tomorrow. I bet I can triple this list without even trying, if he’s in the same mood he was in today. Yippee! More of me over on Facebook and Instagram.