This morning I dragged myself out of bed to go to the class at the gym. It was especially difficult since I was very sore from exercising the night before and because it was raining and gloriously dark and quiet in our house. Little Man will play quietly in his crib until I muster up the energy to get him out of bed. Have I mentioned that he is my favorite? So it was a challenge to leave my soft, warm bed and get myself ready to head out in the cold rain to inflict more pain on my already painful muscles.
But I did it. I got up, got Little Man up and dressed and took him downstairs for some breakfast.
“What do you want to eat?”
“Um… waffles and cereal.”
“Waffles and cereal.”
“Do you want waffles or do you want cereal?” I ask very patiently.
“Waffles and cereal.”
“Buddy! You can have one. Do you want a waffle or do you want some Cheerios?” I’m starting to lose some patience.
“Waffles and cereal.”
Sigh. I wonder if I’ve been letting him watch too much “Max and Ruby” lately? He’s starting to sound a lot like Max. Why can’t that kid rabbit say more than one word? And where the heck ARE his parents? If Ruby were my older sister I would probably punch her in the throat. That bunny is bossy!
Anyhoo… I made Little Man a waffle, set it in front of him, closed my eyes and said a silent prayer and then backed away slowly hoping that he would accept my offering and not throw the waffle on the floor screaming “No waffle! Waffle and cereal!”
He starting eating the waffle. Deep sigh of relief. Then he asked for juice.
“Oh, I’m sorry, buddy, we don’t have any juice. Would you like some milk?”
He looked at me like I was insane. What do you mean we don’t have any juice? How in the world can you consider milk a fair substitute for juice, you lunatic?
I poured him some milk and did the same eye closing, silent prayer offering, backing away routine. He drank the milk. The fates were aligned in my favor this morning!
Then he asked to watch t.v.
“No t.v., we don’t have much time. How about if you eat your breakfast and talk with Mommy?”
“No talk with Mommy! T.V.!”
It was too early in the morning to argue, plus I was slightly more interested in catching up on Facebook than talking to a two year old tyrant at that moment, so I turned on the t.v.
Our television is one of those flat screen nightmares that requires 17 remotes and a degree in aeronautical engineering to operate, and it takes about 4.5 seconds to actually turn on once you press the “power” button. I have learned from experience that Little Man has the remarkable ability to scream “T.V!” 397 times in that 4.5 seconds. Kid’s got some mad skills.
I let him watch some Dora- does anyone else wonder if that poor girl suffers from hydrocephalus? Why in the world is her head so big?- while I got my things ready to go to the gym.
Usually when it’s time to leave I say something like “Okay, buddy, time to go,” to which he inevitably replies “No go!” and then turns into a kicking screaming mess as I try to wrestle him in the car seat and end up sweating and pulling more muscles than I do at the gym.
Today when I said it was time to leave, he said “otay”. Hmmm… something’s up. We get in the car with little fuss and drive to the gym. When we got in I took him to the daycare, hung up his coat and said goodbye. He yelled “Adios!” over his shoulder. Apparently he was paying attention to Dora. Then he turned around and ran back to me.
He ran over and gave me a big hug. “I wub you Mommy”.
“I love you too buddy. Have fun, okay?”
Then he ran off to play. He is a little lover in general, but this was slightly uncharacteristic since it was unsolicited affection. That should have been another clue that something was up.
I went upstairs to the class and was torturing my poor muscles some more when I saw the dreaded black figured daycare worker come in the room. I was avoiding eye contact hoping she was coming to find some other poor shlump, but no, it was me she was looking for.
“Helloooo… is it me you’re looking for?”
I didn’t really break into a Lionel Ritchie song. I put my equipment away and went downstairs to get Little Man. As soon as I walked in I wished I hadn’t. The kid had filled his pants and the room with the most God-awful stench I had ever had the horror of smelling.
Unfortunately I didn’t have his diaper bag with me, so I had to put him in the car and take him home. I drove with the windows down and listened to him whine the whole way.
“I know it is 36 degrees and raining, but you STINK dude!”
“NO STINK DUDE!!!”
Ah yes, there’s the two year old terror I know and love. I should have known there was a good reason for his earlier loving ways and semi-compliant behavior.
The kid was just full of shit.