Honestly, it’s the only explanation for how he’s survived this long.
Last night, about 30 seconds after I closed his door, I heard the big cry. The big “I’M IN PAIN” cry. I hustle in there to find him holding a sippy cup in one hand, his forehead in the other.
Me: What happened, my Boobah?
Jonas: I just frew up dis cup and it fell on my FACE and I just yelled OW! and den I started CWYING!
Me: So.. you threw a heavy, full cup up in the air while you were lying on your back?
Jonas: YES! And it HIT ME IN DA FACE!
Me: (barely managed to “kiss da boo boo” and get out of there before I started laughing.)
.
He paid me back for my callus attitude by waking up four times last night. Four. Times. When he was a newborn, he used to wake me up three times a night. Four times is unacceptable.
Especially considering the completely ridiculous reasons. I can not even for a second remember the first two, (It’s kind of a miracle if the kids can manage to wake me up during my first two hours of sleep. To expect me to remember what happened is totally unrealistic.) but at 3am he came in crying that he couldn’t find his binky. (Yes – dirty little secret time. My almost three year old still uses a binky. Deal with it.)
I got up, wandered into his room, started searching for the damn bink. Pulled all 47 stuffed animals out of his bed. Shook out his blanket. Checked under his pillow. Got down on all fours to look under the bed. Finally told him I’d get him a new one, which is when he started screaming that he just “WANTS THE BLUE ONE! WHERE’S MY BLUE BINKY?!”
It was about then that I noticed it. Still clipped to his shirt. I think it’s pretty impressive that I didn’t strangle him on the spot.
.
At 6am he showed up, sobbing, telling me he couldn’t find his “gween (mumble mumble sounds like…) fwoggy.” “I LOST MY GWEEN (something something could be… ) FWOGGY! WHERE IS IT? I JUST LOOOOOSED IT!”
I put him in my bed, go to his room, collect the green frog, (which, btw, was on the top of the pile of animals) head back to bed. I pitch it at him, and collapse face down and fall back asleep. I’m woken back up 3 seconds later by a frog hitting me on the back of the head.
“NO! MY GWEEEEEEEN (something mumble crying kid w/ binky honestly can’t understand wtf he’s trying to say)”
I tell him that I can’t understand him with the binky, and while he’s crying. He spits it out and veeeery carefully enunciates…
“I. Lost. My. Green. Smartie.”
Apparently, he was dreaming about candy. When he woke up and it wasn’t still there, he came into my room in a rage. The rest of the story you already know.
The next hour passed with him dozing off, then waking up sobbing about the smartie, then dozing off, then waking up and begging me to get him a new green smartie, because “gween smaaaaties are my vewy favowite candy in da whole wide WORLD!”, dozing off, repeat repeat re-freaking-peat.
Good thing he’s so cute.
omg…i am laughing so hard…seriously, TEARS!!!! kiss that child for me!!!
toddler rage is SO MUCH FUNNIER when it’s not my own. roflol.
I hope he talks wit dat cwaaaazy accent foreva!
We still call Hunter, Hunta!
LOL!! I literally laughed out loud!! I love reading here!