Six Ways to Recreate Life With a Toddler
Why the meltdown, you ask? Well, it was because I dared offer to cut his waffle into bites. I mean, the audacity!
This was the same waffle that he requested, but then when he saw it going into the toaster, asked if he could have mandarin oranges instead. So I gave him a cup of oranges - which he wanted placed on the counter and not the taaaaaable, Mommmyyyyyy! He picked at the oranges, and then was all, "Where's my waffle?" ... like he hadn't just vetoed it two minutes earlier.
When I finally produced said waffle, he asked for milk. No, chocolate milk. In the LEGO Movie cup. But nooooo! Not the one with Bad Cop! The one with UNI-KITTY!!!!
That's when I realized I needed to look no further for blogging inspiration - I could just write about how toddlers are irrational assholes. Because they totally are. Doubly so when they're sick or sleepy or hungry, which - between the three - is, like, seventy percent of the time.
If you don't have a toddler and would like to know the joys of living with one, allow me to list a few things that are comparable so you can try them out yourself.
- Find a super-grumpy, argumentative old man. Get him rip-roaring whiskey drunk, and then try to get him dressed, stuffed into a coat, and buckled into a car. (Make sure he's still spry enough to put up a fight in order to get the full experience.)
- Get a job as a personal concierge to a celebrity known for ridiculous demands. Expect requests such as putting apple slices back together, going to the grocery store with no pants, and eating mustard - and only mustard - for lunch. If you cannot or will not comply with these demands, heaven help you.
- Spend a few hours with the biggest know-it-all in the world and just nod tiredly as they tell you (in an irritated tone) that you're wrong about everything ... like the sky being blue and the grass being green.
- Find a friend who's willing to volunteer. Bind their wrists together and put mittens on their hands, then ask them to put on their shoes or zip their coat. When you offer assistance, have them scream, "NOOO! I DO IT MYSELF!" (directly into your ear). Accept that you will either a.) be perpetually late until this phase passes, or b.) have to start the leaving-the-house process like half an hour earlier.
- Find someone who barely speaks English. Infuriate them somehow, then try to reason with them. In English.
- Start a personal stylist business. Take on a client who vetoes 95% of the perfectly acceptable clothing you suggest, requesting instead things that are either too small, seasonally inappropriate, or ridiculous (i.e., a dinosaur costume).
And here's the thing about toddlers. Whether it comes at Terrible Two or Traumatic Three (I've had both!), you can pretty much guarantee that even the most easygoing and pleasant of children WILL go through a phase where you wonder if they've been possessed. I swear, a couple of days navigating through life with a stubborn, moody toddler would be a much better tool at preventing teen pregnancy than those fake baby dolls they have to take home.
I'm willing to, you know, rent mine out if anybody wants to test that theory.
At least until he's four.