I understand you are having a bad day. I refuse to pee on the potty and my brother is throwing a fit over the Netflix not working. You are tired, I get that.
But do not try to pull the wool over my eyes, by telling me we’re having ‘Snack dinner’ as a treat tonight. I enjoy a hearty meal; popcorn alongside cheese and crackers does not warrant healthy eating habits for dinner time.
I am two and a half, I should not have to tell you this.
Please do not attempt to build track with me. Your architectural skills are tired and not well thought out. I can compose a better train track blindfolded with one hand tied behind my back.
Your expertise is no longer needed.
I don’t know quite how to tell you this, but I am never going to potty train.
It is an unfortunate situation for you, as I am fully aware of the mechanics in which to carry out this task…Yet I feel as though you doing the hard labour, works much better in my favor.
Can you please explain to me why you get so annoyed when I ask you what you’re doing every five minutes?
I truly just want to know what you are up to at all given times, and don’t see what the issue is with that.
What is your beef with Caillou? He is my friend, and I love him. Is this going to be an ongoing habit with all of the boys in my life?
There is never a good time to tell me you are taking away my bottle. I still harbour ill feelings towards you in regards to this.
Just wanted to put that out there.
What are you doing right now?
If you do not let me go over to the neighbours house to play with my friend, I am going to lose it. LOSE. It.
It would most definitely be in your best interest to just let me go. Have a little foresight and think of the chaos that I can cause.
Think of the chaos Mom.
Please stop getting mad at me for removing all of your books from the bookshelf. I am simply mimicking you, trying to expand my knowledge.
If only I could get this reading thing down.
How many times do I have to tell you, I do not like cleaning my room!
It is my room, and I enjoy it being a ‘disgusting pig-sty’ as you so elegantly put it.
I am 4 years old. Not 40, who really expects me to keep track of my hat and shoes? I did not appreciate your demeaning tone the other day when these articles were misplaced.
You’re the Mom; you should have realized the first place to look would have been the vegetable drawer in the fridge.
If you hadn’t of been so damned accommodating in the first few years of my life, maybe now I would not expect you to do every little task for me…
By the way, can you wipe my butt, I just dropped a big messy one.
I know I’m cute. I’m friggen adorable, let’s just face the facts here.
But you NEED to calm down on the cuddles and kisses in the morning (the peak hours of my cuteness). I am starting to get embarrassed with all of the attention, and quite frankly it is taking away from my time with Caillou.
I can’t keep indulging you in our ‘baby-time’ play. I am almost three years old, it is time for me to become a big girl.
So here and now I am putting my foot down; never again will I allow you to cradle me in the nook of your arm and rock me like a baby whilst I coo and feign baby cries.
It is becoming an unhealthy habit Mother.
I’m with Soph on that last one…It is past the point of weird.
Dear Mama; From both of us…
We are truly happy we provide such great material for your new found love of blogging. As of now, we have decided to let you carry on with this hobby of yours, and will continue to provide weird and wonderful stories for you to write about.
But know this, one day in the future, we will get you back for all of the embarrassing tales you have told of us to random strangers.
So next time you are about to scroll out a story of Sophie pooping in the living room, or me saying some phrasing of funny double-sided words, think twice.
Because one day…One day there will be retribution.
And with that said, we love you Mom.
These are the confessions of what a Mother truly knows about the thoughts that slide in and out of her children’s minds.
For the last ‘Confessions’ post, click HERE.