Today was one of those days. I can usually see them coming. They start out with C being in a great mood when she first wakes up. She’ll sit in her crib and chat with Purple Bunny or doze like a normal human, and then pleasantly call my name around 8AM when she’s ready to greet me and tell me how wonderful and gorgeous I am. Then, by the time breakfast is over, her cache of pleasantness is exhausted for the day and she cries until bedtime because why not?
I pulled out all the stops today. While I would love nothing more than to peel grapes and watch Murray and his Little Lamb with her from the moment a toddler day begins, it is not meant to be sometimes. Laundry has to get done. As I took each sopping wet shirt out of the machine whilst the melodious sobbing of my child played in the background, I remembered that outside exists and so we should probably go there. Outside is bigger than inside and there are fewer iPads laying around to be thrown across the room to bruise my shins.
“C, when I get done, do you want to go outside?”
“OK, go find your shoes and I’ll help you put them on.”
She ran across the apartment to her shoes and started screaming at them because they were up high where she couldn’t reach them, and if you yell at shoes enough they will fall down onto the ground and place themselves around your feet. They will probably smile at you more than your heartless mother.
I went and grabbed them and a pair of socks and called to her to come to the sofa where I would put them on her. Her response was to run across the apartment again screaming SHOOO and then demand raisins. I reminded her that it was time to go outside and she reacted as if this was the first time in the history of her life that I had suggested we leave our home to go to the wondrous outdoors.
“C, come to the sofa so I can help you with your shoes.”
In a fit of overwhelmed glee, she noticed the pillow across the room and decided to go lie down for a second. I took the opportunity to get up and have a sip of coffee. Obviously, me drinking the coffee made me Hitler so she started wailing again. Once one’s parent drinks coffee, outside isn’t happening. Obviously.
Finally I put her shoes on her and carried her outside. Luckily B came home from work a few moments later. I escaped for the afternoon to go tarGetting. When I got back, he had that look in his eye. A change in the guard had not lifted her mood. It would be hotdogs and macaroni for dinner for all.
There is nothing better than sharing a toddler day with another parent who is equally as useless at counteracting them.