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Early this morning my 2.5 year old: “Mommy, my penis hurts.” Me: “Son, I only do penis talks after I’ve had my coffee.”

There is a female gymnast competing in these games who is 41. Guys. I still have a chance.

“Hey Josh, what would you like for lunch? How about I give you some options.”

Me: “Would you like some pizza?”

Him: “No, I want ‘options.'”

Me: “How about some raspberries?”

Him: ‘No, I want ‘options.'”

Me: “Would you like some cheese?”

Him: ‘No, I want ‘options.'”

[Who’s on first?] “Options” is clearly a new food group.

Me to Josh: “Josh, would you like a fork with your lunch?”

Josh: “No.”

*Pause*

Josh: “Mommy, I want a fork.”

This about sums up life with a two-year-old.

Every morning I have one ambition: To be faster than my 11-month-old when we both realize I left the dog food and dog water within his reach.