Two year olds are little a!# holes. They are exploring their world like a bull in a china shop. As I type this, mine is turning the laundry (that has been piling up longer than I care to admit) into his personal play area. I have told him several times that we don’t play in piles of mommy’s regret, but he barks like a puppy and tells me no.
He is almost three. If you’re a mom or around a lot of kids, you know three is worse than the terrible twos. The past few months he has gradually evolved into a little demon spawn who runs around shrieking with his two older brothers, and shouts “penis” very loudly in public places. No shame in his toddler game.
His favorite game to play is “love the cat” with our super saiyan Goku. Now don’t get me wrong, he can be very gentle and sweet with him. However, most of the time, he’s running after him and screaming how much he loves him. It is adorably frustrating.
After all the madness today, I am in surrender mode. He has emptied almost the entire contents of the laundry, and I think it’s time for some wine.