2 months? How has it possibly been 2 months since I had 5 minutes to sit down and type? I apologize for my absence but here’s a play by play of why, enjoy. 

I’m currently being fed a combination of golden orange playdoh and hair in a toy kitchen pot, by a toddler who has now begun to dump said playdoh into a cup spilling 80% of the contents onto the living room carpet. As his sister comes running in yelling “are you watching him?” (I resist the urge to respond “no, I thought you were?” And yes I am watching him.) She forcefully takes it away from him. He begins to cry and chases her into the kitchen “mine, mine, mine.”  As she rebuttals, “I was playing with it first.” And I think, “If you were playing with it how did he get it?”

And then they disappear into a closed room and it grows earily quiet. Suspicious to say the least. I never know what I’ll uncover when I open those doors. As I hear a yell “Charlie’s eating playdoh!”  Be right back…

Alright play doh crisis averted. Distraction in the form of a pretty, sparkly, star necklace to which he put on and said, “ta-da!” And then to show he was still a man drove his Tonka truck full speed through three rooms, driving over left over playdoh on the carpet. (And that’s why we don’t have nice things.) Proceeding to climb into the dump of the truck and stand up and reach for the handles of the bat mobile inches in front of him. Surprisingly not falling ass over tea kettle. Then sitting back in the dump and repeatedly dumping himself out and  getting frustrated because he fell out. I don’t recall his sister having this form of “devil may care” attitude as a toddler. 

Sometimes I wonder if he wakes up and thinks, “how can I get into mischief today?Maybe I’ll use a small chair to climb onto the dog kennel and open the pizza oven. Or maybe I’ll climb on the back of the couch and yell at the squirrels and make squirrel noises at them. Or perhaps (my favorite), I’ll learn how to open the bathroom door, open the toilet, and splash in the water.” 

And as I imagine what shenanigans he can get into he steals his sisters playdoh, throws pieces at her, shoves a toy spoon in his mouth (with playdoh on), grabs pieces faster then she can put them away, and fills up his snack bowl with a heaping helping of orange playdoh-y goodness. (Did I mention I’ve instructed several times to return the playdoh to the kitchen where it belongs?) 

And he’s off again. Tackling his sister as she bends to pick up traces of playdoh. Nipping at her ankles like a yorkie. Shortly after putting a toy dog bone in his mouth, the irony. I suppose I should feed him now…

…and fail, pb & j, pears, maybefive  bites…”done”. And he’s back to eating playdoh…

A few moments of quiet, non-playdoh eating play. And then, intentionally, very slowly slides his fingers closer, closer, closer until he snatches away his sisters playdoh and the loud “CHARLIE!” comes bellowing out. He digresses quickly. He’s sneaky, but he knows better then to pick a fight with her. 

And again they disappear to the next room, this time I follow to stand guard as it’s almost nap time and I know the whining that will ensue in a matter of minutes should something not go whoevers way it’s suppose to go. I’m instantly attacked with a playdoh toy being used as a sword “doh doh da do do do” (didn’t know that’s what a sword said did ya?). 

I’ve now been deemed keeper of the balls.  He waits in excited anticipation for me to throw them. I do and his arms remain at his sides as all three balls bounce off of him. Each time he claims “ow” while smiling and then waves his arms for the next one. 

I’m quickly pulled from my chair so he can sit there and rock himself for a matter of seconds. Then he runs quickly, trips over the toy tractor loader. Finds some necklaces and loads it up. Sits on the much to small tractor and tips his tiny little self backwards, seeing this as opportunity to load the tractor with more. And climbs back on being sure this time to balance his tiny legs on either side just so. 

Then he so sweetly gets off and shares the necklaces with me. “Mommy, mommy,” he says in his sweet little voice as he struggles to put them over my pony tail. 

Time for a hog tie diaper change. You know the kind with flailing legs? Here’s a tip… if you leave the pants around the ankles they can’t run away after they perform the roll out. Diaper change done, I’ll tend to my bruises later. 

Now he’s going to put on his sister’s crock (but only one), his hat, and grabs his tea pot, “Mommy, bye. See ya.” He blows me several kisses, apparently he’s not having this nap time business. Over and out.