So we woke up to snow first thing this morning, even though our Southern friends are still wearing flip flops and complaining about the heat and the humidity.
Precisely, we woke up to snow at 4:30 this morning, because THAT is when Thing 2 decided to make his appearance in the doorway, shouting out his usual round of good mornings. I promptly sent him back to bed and told him that it was THE MIDDLE OF THE STINKING NIGHT!!! He promptly got back out of bed, turned on his bedroom light (because he’s tall enough to reach the switch now, even though I have no idea how THAT happened), and began pushing Thomas around the tracks on his train table.
And then… THIS is how things looked at 9:17 this morning:
When you get up at 4:30 in the morning and then spend the next four-and-a-half hours pushing the dining room chairs around to crawl up onto kitchen counters with, you know it’s going to be a rough day. After he was completely grounded from the chairs… after our chairs had been put on top of the dining room table, because Mama couldn’t take it any longer!!!… I went downstairs to switch a load of laundry from the washer to the dryer… and Thing 2 pried open the heat vent on the bathroom floor, filled a cup full of water at the bathroom sink, and then proceeded to POUR. THAT. WATER. right down the vent. Later, he squirted half of a bottle of lotion all over the back of the toilet. Then he ran outside in his bare feet, in the snow, and went on to scream his instant dislike for all of Small Town County to hear. I simply stood at the doorway and said, “If you come back inside, you can warm your bare feet up.” And that toddler, in all of his stubbornness, shook his head at me and yelled, “I no come inside!!” And then he yelled, “Feet are cold!!” And then he yelled, “I be outside! I see snow!!” And then he yelled, “Feet are so cold!”
Yeah… I had to go outside and haul the barefooted bandit in, because he was going to suffer frostbite before he just came in and put on a pair of socks already.
By 8:45 this morning, I was wondering exactly how much I would regret my choice tomorrow, if I just traded him to a roaming band of gypsies for snake oil and a handful of glass beads.
In the end, Thing 2 ASKED for a nap at 9:00, and I emphatically agreed and clapped my hands with enthusiasm. By 9:17, he was passed out cold, with his orange-and-blue Bronco Boy over his eyes, using it as a light-blocking sleep mask.
(Yes. That’s how our toddler sleeps. He has an entire basket filled with BOYS in his room, which are really Dr. Scholl’s fuzzy, women’s slipper socks. He loves them all like he loves a security blanket. He likes to pile them in his bed for naps and bedtime [See them up there in the snapshot? And, let it be known… he stole the pink one from my sister’s house.], and he always puts one across his eyes when he goes to sleep.)
The rest of the day went fairly well, considering that he still has an awful cold, with enough snot pouring down his face to indicate that the FAUCETS OF POOR HEALTH have been thrown open wide. By the time the boy got home from the junior high, I was already glad that I’d made the decision to KEEP Thing 2, and not pass him along to traveling gypsies or a convent full of nice nuns, who would have made him kneel on hardwood floors all day with a Rosary in his hands, because WATER IN THE HEAT VENT, Y’ALL!! This kid makes me laugh. He makes me laugh HARD. Of course, he makes me yank my own hair out by the fistfuls when he pours water down heat vents and covers a toilet in baby lotion, but I’m content with the fact that I didn’t get rid of him permanently today. Especially when I handed him a couple of Ritz crackers this afternoon, and he said, “Fank you, Mommy. I wub you, Mommy.”
(Translation for those of you who don’t speak fluent Toddler Talk: “Thank you, Mommy. I love you, Mommy.”)
(I WUB that little boy, too. I WUB him a whole lot.)
But then… while I was chopping up an onion to toss into a pot of homemade chili that I was making for dinner this evening, Thing 2 brought two baby wipes into the kitchen. He said, “I clean truck, Mommy!” And then he set about the business of wiping down his giant Tonka truck, like he was an overjoyed archaeologist, polishing up a newly found golden vase from King Tut’s tomb. Apparently, the thrill of washing your own truck starts early when you’re a boy, as I know how many trips Hubs has taken through the car wash, all in the name of MAKING HER SHINE. I kept on with the onion, and then I heard the unmistakable SNAP of our little outlet covering on the living room wall, where our central vacuum cleaner hose plugs in.
Yep. The toddler had stuffed BOTH baby wipes into that spring-loaded, tiny little door, so those are clogging up the pipes now.
(Does wine go with homemade chili??!!)
And then my big boy came home from school complaining of a sore throat and a headache, and I COULD BARELY RUN IN PE TODAY, BECAUSE I COULDN’T BREATHE OUT OF MY NOSE, and DO WE HAVE ANY CHICKEN NOODLE SOUP IN A CAN, MOM?
No. We have no canned soup. But what we have is chili. Making it cost me the use of my central vacuum cleaner today.
Welcome, Winter. Welcome. You’re already kicking us hard.