I Want Candy; I Want Candy!
Some days as a stay-at-home mom require chocolate sedation. Today was one of those days. Liam may not be fully two yet, but if the terrible twos get worse than this, then please nobody tell me about it. Because I may just go stark-raving mad at the possibility.
Today began with Liam insisting that yellow "dirt trucks" make their appearance. Will and I only have ourselves to blame for this one. We made the mistake of thinking that we could do a little Christmas shopping for Liam with Liam present. This was NOT one of our brighter ideas. So we bought a set of yellow, wooden, block construction vehicles (a.k.a. dirt trucks), and feigned ignorance when Liam began asking for them as soon as we got home. He actually became so aggravated with our ridiculous show of idiocy that he had the biggest, baddest meltdown EVER last night -- neither Will nor I have ever seen him so mad. And I guess he dreamt about those damn trucks all night because he woke up asking for them. According to Will, their "good morning" conversation went like this:
Liam: "Mama" (as in take me to her)
Will: "Good Morning!"
Liam: "Big trucks! Big Velyow Duht Trucks! Big Velyow Duht Trucks OUTSIDE!" (as if it just occurred to him where they might be hiding)
So it was hopeless, and I relented, and he got the yellow trucks. Merry October 24th!
Except it wasn't. Anything that didn't involve playing with big, yellow, dirt trucks was a major ordeal. I tried to shower -- Liam threw a fit because I wouldn't let him risk cracking his head open on the tile floor by playing with the sink faucet while teetering on his step-stool. I tried to dress Liam -- Liam threw a fit because he did NOT want to wear overalls or a coat. I tried to dress myself -- Liam threw a fit because I wouldn't let him use the iron. I tried to get us both in the car -- Liam threw a fit because he couldn't take both yellow dirt trucks AND his fire truck basket containing around 15 Matchbox/Hot Wheels vehicles AND baby brother's stuffed fish AND. . .well, you get the idea.
Lunchtime didn't get any better. Liam bit my hand for no apparent reason and landed himself a time-out. Then napping (it couldn't have come too soon), and then another fit upon waking because Mama wanted to sit on the sofa and read while Liam wanted Mama to sit in the floor and play trucks, which culminated with ANOTHER bite and a really, really, really long time-out (more for Mama than child).
Yes, chocolate is my friend, friends. It keeps me from driving to a remote location, dropping the boy off, and leaving my son to fend for himself on days like this. Thank the Lord these days are few and far between. . .at least for now.
Today began with Liam insisting that yellow "dirt trucks" make their appearance. Will and I only have ourselves to blame for this one. We made the mistake of thinking that we could do a little Christmas shopping for Liam with Liam present. This was NOT one of our brighter ideas. So we bought a set of yellow, wooden, block construction vehicles (a.k.a. dirt trucks), and feigned ignorance when Liam began asking for them as soon as we got home. He actually became so aggravated with our ridiculous show of idiocy that he had the biggest, baddest meltdown EVER last night -- neither Will nor I have ever seen him so mad. And I guess he dreamt about those damn trucks all night because he woke up asking for them. According to Will, their "good morning" conversation went like this:
Liam: "Mama" (as in take me to her)
Will: "Good Morning!"
Liam: "Big trucks! Big Velyow Duht Trucks! Big Velyow Duht Trucks OUTSIDE!" (as if it just occurred to him where they might be hiding)
So it was hopeless, and I relented, and he got the yellow trucks. Merry October 24th!
Except it wasn't. Anything that didn't involve playing with big, yellow, dirt trucks was a major ordeal. I tried to shower -- Liam threw a fit because I wouldn't let him risk cracking his head open on the tile floor by playing with the sink faucet while teetering on his step-stool. I tried to dress Liam -- Liam threw a fit because he did NOT want to wear overalls or a coat. I tried to dress myself -- Liam threw a fit because I wouldn't let him use the iron. I tried to get us both in the car -- Liam threw a fit because he couldn't take both yellow dirt trucks AND his fire truck basket containing around 15 Matchbox/Hot Wheels vehicles AND baby brother's stuffed fish AND. . .well, you get the idea.
Lunchtime didn't get any better. Liam bit my hand for no apparent reason and landed himself a time-out. Then napping (it couldn't have come too soon), and then another fit upon waking because Mama wanted to sit on the sofa and read while Liam wanted Mama to sit in the floor and play trucks, which culminated with ANOTHER bite and a really, really, really long time-out (more for Mama than child).
Yes, chocolate is my friend, friends. It keeps me from driving to a remote location, dropping the boy off, and leaving my son to fend for himself on days like this. Thank the Lord these days are few and far between. . .at least for now.
posted by Will at 3:44 PM
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