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5.02.2010

Dear 22 Month Old,

Hi, Sweetie. Sweetie?

(snapping fingers and rolling eyes)

SWEETIE! Ok. Now that I have your attention. Ahem.

Hi, Sweetie. Erm...honey...don't climb that. Mommy REALLY doesn't want to take a trip to the hospital today, I haven't even paid the bill from our last visit yet. Don't make me get out of this chair. Don't you do it!

(smack on the floor and inconsolable wailing)

Grrr...Didn't I tell you NOT to do that? I know you understand me! Why don't you listen. Oh, stop, you're fine. Alright, one hug, but really I don't think you deserve it. That was totally preventable.

(wiping copious amounts of snot from shoulder)

Ok. Now. ARE. YOU. LISTENING.

Sweet, beautiful, energetic little baby boy--
It's probably time to stop calling you "baby." You are, after all, very nearly two. But I just wanted to write you this little note to remind you: You're not two yet! I've got two months left, precious, and I'd really like to enjoy them. I'm getting sick of having to apologetically announce to shocked onlookers in stores and restaurants, "He's two," when it's not even true yet! Couldn't you give me just a *little* more time? My bruises haven't all quite healed since your brother turned two. I demand at least a one-week notice before "The Terrible Twos" commence.

Don't look at me with that blank stare. You know what I'm talking about. No? How about last week at the playground, when I TOLD you not to hang off the top of the big toy, and then you did it on purpose (I KNOW it was on purpose, damnit) and when you fell you screamed at me like it was my fault? Since when does warning someone that they're going to get hurt constitute liability when it actually happens? It's not like I'm psychic or have kinetic powers that I used to push you off the toy (because if I did, life would be a lot more exciting for both of us).

Still not impressed? Still don't think you've been behaving badly? Hmm...ok. What about Friday when we were at the restaurant? You spent the entire time trying to wriggle out of your seat, and when you finally succeeded, you screamed, "NO, MOMMY! NO LIKE MOMMY!" and ran away screaming. Just because everyone in the restaurant laughed does NOT make it funny. Just so you know, I was ready to crawl in a corner and die. And if that happened, who would feed you? I'd like to remind you that Daddy does NOT know how to cook.

Alright, I can see you're still not getting the picture here. So let's go over one more example. This morning, when you woke me up at 5 am? I asked you not to put your hands in the fishbowl. I asked more times that I should have because I was tired and annoyed at being awake that early. And when I finally just yelled, "NO!" to get your attention and make you stop, what did you do? YOU BIT ME.

That last one alone is enough proof for me. You are cute, cuddly, and very sweet. Please, please, PLEASE stay that way just a little bit longer. I've ordered full body armor to protect myself and it takes two weeks to deliver. Can we at least wait that long?

Love you, Sweetie. Now stop jumping on the couch and eat your breakfast.

Love, Mommy

2 comments:

Alex @LateEnough said...

I LOVE that he bit you. I think he may be related to my boy. He loved to look accusingly at me when he fell. The worst part? I totally know that I'm parenting myself. Joy.

ck said...

"I demand at least a one-week notice before "The Terrible Twos" commence."

I'm still waiting on that note, plus a time card and workman's comp for all of the injuries I've sustained to my person. Something tells me we'll be waiting a while...