The other day, I legit chased my toddler around my street with no pants. ZERO pants. He was running all over the street and I didn’t have time to think about whether or not neighbors could see my saggy white rear end peeking out from underneath my shirt. I had a toddler to catch. If you happened to look out of your window and you live on my street… you’re welcome.
So, I told TJ that if he pooped in the potty, he would get M&Ms. I hear the toilet flushing over and over again and then he runs out here with cupped hands expecting his treat. He must think his mama’s dumb. Habeas poopy little man or no treaty-treat.
Sam: “Mom, thank you.”
Me: *startled* “What for?”
Sam: “For everything.”
I’m not saying I have a favorite son…
Yes I am. I totally have a favorite son.
*Sam throwing a fit about something again*
Sam: “Mom….YOU’RE NOT THE MOM!!!!!!”
ME: “Oh, unfortunately I am right now. I wish I were the dad because he doesn’t have to tell you ‘no’ quite as often.”
Josh: *assessing the situation*
Josh: “Mom, it looks like you need a massage.”
Me: “You have no idea.”
*Sam throwing a fit in front of the preschool because I’m making him be responsible for carrying his stuff to the car*
Sam: MOM I DON’T LIKE THIS DAY AND I DON’T LIKE YOU FOR NOT CARRYING MY STUFF!!!!!
Me: You’re a big boy and big boys need to be responsible for their own stuff. I still carry a lot of TJs things because he’s still learning.
Him: *seething silence*
Me: *tearing up* I kind of wish I still carried your stuff because that means I can keep you a baby forever…
Him: MOM!!!! THAT DOESN’T MAKE ANY SENSE AT ALL!!!!!
My son, the oracle. None of this parenting thing makes any sense.
If you’ve never walked through Target with a two-year-old pointing a toilet plunger at everyone he sees and screaming “pew-pew!,” then you should. Because if not, you’re missing out.
Also, when critical meltdown was about to happen at the register, the nice lady gave us a bunch of stickers that kept us busy for the 60 seconds it took me to run my card.