Whenever the kid wakes up even half-an-hour before he usually does, the rest of the morning just goes to crap. I mean, seriously, how many times does it take for you realize that "Oh, I guess I don't want to eat oatmeal this morning," and, "Oh, maybe that means I can stop begging mommy to keep giving me some and then spitting it out and crying."
What a whiney little squirt.
In moments like these, I pull out the big guns. And today, it was every pot and pan I own, placed thoughtfully in a circle on the floor, and a chubby toddler plopped right in the middle of them with two wooden spoons. Let it all out, buddy, let it ALL out. And he did. With Sir Barksalot on his back. And a cautionary wince at every piercing swat.
And then we ate Hershey kisses and went on with the day.
Keep that in mind, all you amateur parents.
Oh, and Saturday, we went to the park. And Jude walked right past the baby slide and showed that steep, big-kid slide just how not afraid of it he was. Over and over and over again. Stop growing up, crazy.