Not that it comes as any great revelation that the Little Imp is two. She's been two for almost four months now. However, she's been playin' possum at the "terrible" part of it. Until today. Oh. My. Gosh!
As I type this she is standing in her bed screaming her little lungs out about how I am mean and not nice. Ok, so maybe I am. Maybe I even deserve the Meanest Mommy of the Year Award. Maybe I'm even so terrible, and horrible that I am worthy of the title, Mommy Dearest. If you listen to all the caterwalling coming from the Little Imp you'd certainly think so.
What, m'dears, happened to bring about this morning's meltdown? I'm so glad you asked.
It all revolves around potty-training. She actually ASKED this morning to go pee. So I sat her down on her little potty chair where she did absolutely nothing for fifteen minutes but asked for toilet paper. So I gave her a couple of pieces and she wiped herself, even if there was nothing to wipe. She promptly stood up and said, "I all done, washa hands now!" I told her she'd have the throw the toilet paper away and that's when all hell broke loose. I ended up chasing a nekkid, screaming, foaming at the mouth (ok, maybe she wasn't really foaming at the mouth, but she was acting rabid enough) toddler through the house, hoping and praying she wouldn't pee or poo mid-tantrum. With all the commotion she was making you'd have thought I'd destroyed one of her beloved Wiggles DVD's in front of her.
Once I wrangled the toilet paper away from her and managed to get her writhing, kicking, screaming bottom diapered again, that's when she hauled off and slapped me and then for good measure, kicked me. So, um yeah, she got her little bum hauled off and plopped in bed for a well deserved time out.
She's not real happy with me right now. The feeling is mutual!
