The State of Things


This week hasn’t really been that great. Since I didn’t want to bore you with the endless tantrums, ear-piercing shrieks, brotherly bullying, and the fact that I’m thoroughly annoyed with having to repeat myself over and over and over and over, so I thought that I would let you in on the state of things instead. Because that is slightly less obnoxious. (I hope?)

 

On the State of the Cheerios:

I leave cheerios on the floor because I’ve accepted the fact that there will always be at least one I miss.

Littlest cries if there’s not at least one on the floor.

I dedicated an entire bag that’s carefully labelled “Floor Cheerios” so as not to waste them.

Having dedicated a bag to them, I faithfully get on the floor at least once every couple of days to pick all the whole ones up.

 

On the State of Brotherhood:

I have no idea how to convince Biggest that “playing with Littlest” does not mean “grabbing the toy he’s playing with and taking it just out of his reach”.

If I had a nickel for every time I had to give Biggest heck for yelling at Littlest that “IT’S NOT YOURS!”, I would be rich.

Littlest has an affinity for reaching into Biggest’s basket of Matchbox cars just to be cheeky. He likes to watch Biggest run.

Trying to put them to bed before 7:30 is a nightmare now, because they both try to make the same sounds each other does, which gets both of them into trouble because Hubby and I have given up on figuring out who made what noise. They usually fall asleep too quickly if it’s 7:30 or later, but it’s a far cry from their previous bedtime of 6:30.

 

On the State of Ears:

They don’t work.

 

On the State of Biggest:

He likes to poke me just to see what I’ll do.

He deliberately does something I’ve asked him not to do just to look at me and say “Not this Mommy?”. It drives me nuts and he knows it.

He doesn’t get away with not listening, but he is willing to take whatever I dish out just to see if it will work this time.

He has an unbelievable amount of energy despite being sans-nap, except that being sans-nap, it just goes into pushing my buttons and forgetting to listen.

 

On the State of Littlest:

He deliberately waits until after we put him to bed to poop. We have to check him after an hour to make sure he doesn’t wake up with a rash, and we’ve given up changing him after dinner.

He eats everything. If he gags, he pauses, and then asks for another bite.

He asks for naps.

He doesn’t like being alone, and if he realizes he’s by himself, he’ll cry blue murder until someone comes in. At which point, he shrieks like a banshee with delight.

 

On the State of the Handler:

I play video games with Biggest in the morning so I can con myself into thinking I have space to wake up.

I play poker sometimes so I don’t feel like I’m hiding on my computer, but particularly when it feels like my house has been taken over by savages.

I keep trying to have a nap, but in the afternoons during quiet time, the silence is so nice that it feels like a shame to waste it.

Dishes and I seem to have a life long hate-on. I hate them, and they multiply to spite me.

 

At least, that’s the State of Things this week, and if you’ll excuse me, there’s some very odd crashing in the living room. If I had to guess, after Biggest got unceremoniously shoveled off to his room for defying me, Littlest probably got a hold of some of Biggest’s toys that Biggest left on the floor.

The Handler

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