My Bedroom Is Overflowing, And There’s Nothing I Can Do About It.


Since when did I inherit children? What are they doing here and why are they asking me to feed them? Alas, Littlest has finally graduated from infant to toddler, both mentally and physically. For one, he’s finally started walking. This, while highly anticipated, is wreaking havoc on my parenting know-how.

For instance, how do you explain to two screaming gentlemen that the car is not big enough for both of them to sit on at the same time? Well, really, you don’t. As evidenced by my repeated tripping on said car in the middle of the night. My hastily discovered rule of “If you can’t share it nicely, neither of you get to play with it.” is proving detrimental to my toes and my walkable bedroom space. Ditto for the walker that is technically Littlest’s but has suddenly developed longer legs and older know-how. (IE: Biggest steals it.) There’s really only so much room for confiscated toys in my bedroom. I still have to get to my sock drawer.

Increasingly perplexing is how to explain to one tiny mischievous toddler that running away from diaper changing (or crawling for that matter) is not acceptable, and while secretly amusing, is actually really annoying. Especially with poop and streaking. It really doesn’t make a good combo. Neither does politely holding a diaper and suddenly throwing it out of my reach. Closing the wipes in the middle of the job doesn’t help either. Since hog-tying my child is not socially acceptable, I am open to suggestions.

The latest in shenanigans, however, occurred this morning, and has me legitimately terrified. He can climb on the couch. The same couch that has all of our gaming remotes tucked out of (outdated) reach. It’s only a matter of time before I catch him in one of those cubbies. Or perhaps playing Mario Bros with unanticipated skill. If that ever happens, I suspect he’s got a cohort (IE: Biggest.). They’ve already pulled that scheme on me with the movies. I’m sure they’ll learn to be a little more discreet, but their last attempt had help written all over it.

Littlest in Quiet Time with door closed.

Biggest playing quietly with trains.

Mommy snoozing on couch.

Door suddenly opens. (Biggest.)

Movies pulled off shelf. (Littlest.)

Movie cases opened. (Biggest.)

DVDs scattered everywhere. (Both of them.)

I awoke when I heard the two of them talking together. The whole thing screamed “cahoots”. And I learned a very important lesson: Stay awake forever. (Anyone got toothpicks to hold my eyelids up? I pay well.)

The Handler.

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