No tattoos? What do you mean I can’t get tattoos?
Archive for the ‘Terrible Twos’ Category
But that is what ink is for
Posted in 2 years old, 35 months, Drawing, Pictures, Terrible Twos, Year Three: 2008-09 on April 30, 2009 | 2 Comments »
Mom has cooties
Posted in 2 years old, 35 months, Talking, Terrible Twos, Year Three: 2008-09, logic on April 23, 2009 | Leave a Comment »
Mom licks her finger. Then she uses her spit to wipe dirt off my face.
I jerk away.
Don’t want your germs, Mom, I say.
True grit
Posted in 2 years old, 35 months, Eating, Four seasons, Talking, Terrible Twos, Year Three: 2008-09, potty training on April 17, 2009 | Leave a Comment »
My poop is gritty.
“Are you eating sand again?” Mom asks.
Just from the sandbox, I say.
Time to watch TV
Posted in 2 years old, 35 months, Pictures, Terrible Twos, Year Three: 2008-09, tagged television, tv on April 15, 2009 | Leave a Comment »
I kneel at the altar of the TV gods.
Tip: Just pee in your pants
Posted in 2 years old, 35 months, Mom, Talking, Terrible Twos, Year Three: 2008-09, logic, potty training, sense of humor on April 14, 2009 | Leave a Comment »
Mom and I stack blocks in the play room. We are having fun. A lot of fun. And I don’t want to stop.
But Mom stands up. And heads for the bathroom.
No! I try to stop her. Don’t go, I say.
“I’ll be right back,” Mom says. “I will just be a minute.”
No, Mom, I say. Just [...]
Don’t say ‘Mmmm Hmmmm’ to me
Posted in 2 years old, 35 months, Talking, Terrible Twos, Year Three: 2008-09, logic on April 13, 2009 | Leave a Comment »
I talk and talk.
I see a purple car.
“Mmmm. Hmmm,” Mom says.
I like trucks.
“Mmmm. Hmmm,” Mom says.
I want my purse.
“Mmmm. Hmmm,” Mom says.
I look at Mom. She is not really paying attention to me. I am not happy.
Don’t say ‘Mmmm Hmmmm’ to me, I say.
Crappy sleeping bag
Posted in 2 years old, 34 months, Talking, Terrible Twos, Year Three: 2008-09 on March 16, 2009 | Leave a Comment »
I do not want to nap at school. I get up and walk around.
“What’s wrong?” Teacher asks.
My sleeping bag crappy, I say.
“What?!” Teacher asks.
My sleeping bag crappy, I say.
“We don’t use words like ‘crappy,’” Teacher says. And Teacher writes a note for Mom to read when she picks me up.
During dinner, Mom asks me: “Was [...]
