I have a two year old. He can be sweet, loving, charming and adorable. He can also be—how can I put this nicely?—a handful. Who knows why two year olds do the things they do? Every now and then I get a little peek into what he may have been thinking but most of the time I just wonder “What the heck?”
Last Wednesday was not a good day. In fact the thought of repeating such a day any time soon strikes fear into my heart. I think I may break out into a cold sweat at any moment. Shall I tell you about it? Of course, that’s why you are sitting here reading isn’t it?
When I woke up Wednesday morning I was greeted by a naked toddler running around, yelling incoherent gibberish and generally causing a commotion. I dragged my tired body out of bed to chase him down. As I was following him into the front room I noticed one of our fish on the carpet—dead. This was not a 12 cent goldfish. It was our most expensive fish: a transgenic glow fish (David’s favorite). Apparently Daniel had scooped it out of the tank and left it on the floor to die. Sad. I flushed it and continued on to the living room where naked boy was jumping on the couch. He jumped off and landed right in the mess he had made a few moments earlier when he took his diaper off and proceeded to use the living room floor as his own personal toilet. He was not at all happy to have poo smooshed to his heel (can’t say that I blame him), so I hurried and scooped him up before he could track it all over the room and took him to the bathtub to wash up. After he was bathed and dressed I went to clean up the potty mess. Some stuff had gotten on one of the throw pillows so I gathered up the laundry and was starting a load when I heard the door open. The little rascal had pulled a chair over to the door and unlatched the high up latch so that he could escape. He was past the neighbor’s house when I caught up with him. He had also stripped down to just his diaper so he was mostly naked again. I brought him back inside, finished starting the washer and took a load of laundry to my room to fold. That’s when I noticed that Freeno was gone. He had slipped out when Dan had opened the door and I hadn’t noticed. I looked outside and called for him but he was nowhere in sight. For any who don’t know, Freeno is a greyhound. At this point I was thinking I might never see him again. You just don’t let greyhounds off the leash. Ever. They are fast—too fast for me to catch on foot. Besides, I had no idea how far he’d gotten in the five minutes or so that he had been missing. So long Freeno. I did the only thing I could think to do. I got in the van and started driving around the neighborhood looking for him. Luckily we caught up with him about half a mile from home and he came right when I called him and climbed up into the van. I think all this happened before 10 a.m. I really wanted Daniel to have a nap so that I could get some stuff done but he wouldn’t hear of it. He continued throwing tantrums and generally being disagreeable for most of the day. I thought that he was done being naughty for the day but he wasn’t. I don’t even remember why anymore, but I left the room for a couple of minutes—couldn’t have been more than two, and when I came back he had managed to find a bottle of wood glue. A full bottle. He had dumped the entire contents onto the laundry by the washer and all over the kitchen floor. I think that was when the meltdown happened. It’s all a blur now. I think there was some tantrum throwing on my part. There were definitely tears. Then I realized the ridiculousness of it all. As my husband pointed out, that day was special. Not every day is like that. Usually I only have to deal with one or two random acts of naughtiness a day and usually they are more easily dealt with: a little bit of spilled flour on the kitchen floor, a baseball in the toilet, a missing toothbrush and so forth. In fact, the next day he was really subdued (wore himself out the day before is my guess). Anyway, I will laugh about it some day. At least that’s what everyone says. I know I need to write these things down because if I don’t I’ll forget. And honestly, that would be a shame.
5 comments:
Oh dear, oh dear, dear, dear.
my goodness Jill. I don't even know what to say, maybe I will say a pray for you. :)
You are such a patient mom. He is such a little cuttie. Thank goodness all days are not like that.
Oh wow, Jill. That is incredible. Of all the stories over the years (sandwiches in the VCR, action figures in the freezer, scaling refrigerators, candles in butter, paint all over the carpet and wood floor, etc.), I think this takes the cake. Maybe you should send him to Utah for a few days! We'll watch him so you can recover. :)
I think after the escape outside and letting the dog out, I would have locked my own 2-year-old in the bedroom. You definitely earned the Mommy Medal of Honor for that day.
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