Being home with a toddler all day is a little bit like college for me. Because truly, toddlers are a lot like drunk people. Which is a cliche. But today, it’s just too true. It’s a day filled with attempting to help little s walk, trying to figure out exactly why he’s crying, convincing him that certain things just AREN’T edible and to please, put some clothes on!
I mean, literally, this is what he (and our apartment) looked like this morning:
His chest is covered with marker. Eyes a tad bit glossy from too much milk. And speech, as always, slurred.
“MAHM… MAHM… MAHM… MAHM.” as his tiny feet stomp around our apartment with a shovel in one hand and a maraca in the other.
“Yes, baby. What would you like?”
“I see you, baby. Would you like some juice?”
“How do you ask nicely? Can you say ‘Please mama?'”
“MAHM. Eez.” Then he rubs his chest like he’s trying to rub in the streaks of green and red that cover his chest.
Now it’s lunch time. I made him some fettuccine alfredo, because my kid deserves prime lunch time meals. And because peanut butter and jelly is out of the question. And what does he do with it?
Rubs it in his hair.
Apparently it’s some secret baby formula to make your hair super fluffy and amazing, try it. Have you ever tried to get food out of a toddlers hair? It’s like wrestling with a baby lion (who happens to be covered in fettuccine). Sure, he looks so innocent and sweet and messy-in-an-adorable way until you try to take off his messy shirt. Then it’s all growls and claws to the eyes as you attempt to clean up what appears to be a chunk of spit up in his hair as well.
Did he spit up some of that lunch and then proceed to rub it in his hair?
Did I further investigate the glop to be sure?
Then, its all over.
One minute he’s dancing to Ice Ice Baby on our bed (One hand up, spinning in circles, naked from the barf on his clothes. Classy little s.) and the next he’s ready to pass out.
And he does.
In about 2 hours, that process is going to start all over again…
So how was your afternoon?