20 October 2014

That Time She Slammed The Door In My Face

Oh, the life of a toddler. So hard. So difficult (in their minds). When they are struggling to get their thoughts across to you and in turn, don't always understand what you are saying....

...that was how our morning started.

It was one of those mornings when the dog wanted out at an unearthly hour. Then, the minute I get cuddled back in my bed, he's barking and banging on his water dish. I rush down the stairs to make him stop, because, like I said, it's a hideous time of day and I don't want to wake the neighbours.

Again, I head back to my bed, pull the blankets up, close my eyes and hear my toddler waking up. At first, it was just playful chatter; talking to her friends in the bed with her.

Soon, it turned into "mama! mama... MAMA!!!"

I walk into the room, and I'm hit in the face with an overwhelming scent. Poop. Yes. Poop.

I hope and pray that it is contained, but deep down, I know its not.
Not my lucky day.

I pick up my child and hold her out at arms length. I can see the explosion out her pants. Up her back. On the sheets. But the worst part....on her stuffies.

Now, for me, that's not really the worst part, but for Palmer, the one who doesn't understand that she can now no longer play with these friends, devestating.

I clean up Palmer and try to sneak all her friends into the laundry basket without her seeing.

Big mama fail.

We carry the basket to the washing machine as I try to explain to her that Elmo, Big Bird, and Mr Elephamt all need a bath. She doesn't understand.

Game over.

Commence meltdown.

She turned out of the laundry room, pushed me away, and slammed the door in my face.
She then goes into our bedroom, and slams that door too.

I peek the door open to watch her flail herself against the bed, sobbing. Then, like a noodle, slides down the bed to the floor and lays face down, crying "Eeelllllmmmoooooo. Noooo."

I thought she'd forget about it if I disctracted her but she just kept pushing me away, "Don't!!"

So, I let her calm herself and I go downstairs.
About 4 minutes later, I hear little footsteps making their way down the stairs.

"Mama. Ooage (orange) peese."

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1 comment :

  1. Damn that is one tough morning! I cannot stand when the dog is rowdy in the morning. But the poop in the stuffies and the door...that's enough for a week!