So, yeah, this finally happened. I was spoiled with my first daughter. She promptly slept through the night, only faked a few seizures as a result of my constant picture taking and never, EVER did all those insane toddler things that only the most toddleriest toddlers to rock the toddler life ever toddled. She was adventurous and loud, yes. But never mischievous. I’m dreading the teenage years when she will undoubtedly make up for all that good behaviour.
Second daughter – not as easy peasy. On one hand, she is more affectionate and compassionate. She encourages people to perform their best. Seriously, listening to her support her dad when he plays video games is enough sweetness to send a diabetic into a frenzy: “great job killing the bad guys, Dad, that’s so, so super awesome. I’m proud of you!” Imagine that in a cute little 3 yr. old voice. Yeah, that. Buuuuuut – she’s the one that follows every single toddler cliche.
Today, we took a trip to the emergency room. Not my first one with her. It’s never anything serious, but things I can’t really handle on my own. The hospital is 40 minutes away, so I’m not quick to jump in the car for just any old injury or illness. Especially at around noon when I’d had two hours sleep since 6 am the prior day. True story. But my own fault for not realizing I had to work overnight – dumbass. When I’m that tired, I can nod off in between requests for more drinks! Okay, more like demands for more drinks! More snacks! A new show! Scratch my back! But when there’s a shriek followed by “Mommy! There’s something stuck in my nose!!” I spring into mom-zombie action. Honestly, not even sure how she got whatever is up there up there, she’s got a tiny set of nostrils. I won’t go into details of the trip but X-rays were needed and there were flying sneakers, a pregnant nurse who’s safety I was very concerned for, six hands required to hold down a 35-pounder and the revelation when we left the hospital with no foreign object discovered that she thinks she stuck a shark tooth up there. What. The. Actual. Hell? Please don’t ask, I don’t even know where to go from there.
In the last 24 hours, I have reflected on some of the other strange toddler behaviour that I’ve encountered with number two. Holla at me if you’ve experienced the same, or possibly more odd goings on in your little ones’ turd brains.
You’re no Picasso, darling!
~Wall Art – nah, not lovely murals or that funky-rad graffiti art. I mean magic marker people drawn on doors, walls, furniture, etc. Her people don’t even have the right parts in the right places. And I don’t mean in the Picasso cubist way, I mean in the shitty “don’t you even know what your body looks like?!” way.
~Body Art – I’m sensing a theme, at least she’s creative. One of her favourite ways to adorn herself is with pen all over her hand. She calls it her scary hand and she paws at your face while growling. It’s literally pen. All over her hand. And she loves it.
~Hair Cutting – my oldest was the victim of a stray pair of scissors in the hands of a classmate in kindergarten, but little sis is all too eager to do the job herself. I have spurned her attempts on many occasions. But one day, and one day soon, I fear, I will not reach her in time. Her father and I have both butchered her bangs, I should just show her pictures of that and hope she drops that hobby.
~Booger Picking And Then Wiping On Walls And – WHAT?!?! – Pillows. I actually just witnessed this happen and I’m sorta having trouble making eye contact with her because of it.
I’ve had enough, I’m not even going to go into odd dressing habits, farts and foods she refuses to eat. This shit’s exhausting.
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