And no, don't try to talk me out of it. I've made up my mind.
Not that I have ever seen any gypsies in my town. But if I do, I'm selling my 2 year old for a book of curses and some gumbo.
I think a demon has possessed my child. The last 2 days have sent my anxiety through the roof!!
Max has been extremely filled with tantrums...lots of kicking, hitting, crying, refusing, yelling, throwing, and whatever else he isn't supposed to do - HE HAS DONE IT!
Besides all the tantrums he threw yesterday, he also did this: I went to the bathroom and almost fell because I slipped on a large pool of hand soap that he pumped out all over the floor!
He fought me about taking a nap yesterday and today, too. AND...
about thirty minutes ago, while I THOUGHT he had been napping peacefully for the last hour, he wasn't actually napping at all, but doing this:
pumping and smearing lotion all over the nightstand in my bedroom. And all over the floor. And all over the sheets on my bed. And all over the sides of my trashcan.
Michael J. Fox is now very moisturized.
The upside to all of this is that it still doesn't occur to him to lie. He never lies about what he has done.
"Max, why is your brother crying? What did you do?"
"I hit him in the head." or "I pushed him down."
"Max, where is your Toy Story penguin?"
"I put him down the hole. He's gone." (the "hole" is the air vent in our kitchen)
"Max, why is this remote broken?"
"Because I threw it."
So, when he came into the living room with his hands completely covered in a white substance, I asked him what he had done. And he said, "Come here, Mommy. I show you."
My stomach was in knots as I followed him down the hall. What was I going to have to clean up now? I had already cleaned up the yogurt he dumped on the floor at breakfast and the refried beans he smeared all over the table at dinner last night.
I couldn't figure out what he could have done because I always close the bathroom doors when he sleeps just in case he tries to sneak out of his room and play "bath" in the toilet.
He led me down the hallway to my bedroom and I wanted to kick myself for not closing my bedroom door. He walked around to my side of the bed and said, "Look Mommy!" And then I saw poor MJF covered in lotion, along with my pillow, my sheets, my other books, my chapstick, my health insurance information, and everything else I had in the vicinity.
Not that I wouldn't have been able to figure out that he was the culprit if he hadn't already told me. Those two rectangles you see in the bottom right hand corner of the picture are his Han Solo frozen in carbonite statues from Star Wars. He never goes anywhere without them.
But, now that I think about it, I'm not sure selling him to gypsies would be such a good idea.
Since gypsies travel so much, they might not be able to get him his special chocolate soy milk and regular dairy milk mixture that he likes so much. Or his Scooby Doo fruit snacks. And I bet they would get tired of hearing about how Han Solo was frozen in carbonite. And what if they didn't know the words to "Rainbow Connection"? He can't sleep without hearing that song. And if he got a boo-boo, would they have Spiderman band-aids?
Yeah, maybe I'd better keep him. After all, what would I do if I wasn't cleaning up after him all the time? Have a life? Nah, what mother wants that.
I'd rather have slobbery night-night kisses and messy hugs. Definitely.