Not that you need to enter my crazy mind, but here you go anyway. Enjoy! |
My daughter, Jordyn, is three years old. She's bright, funny, incredibly smart. She's clever, cunning, mischievous. She's beautiful. She is the best and most challenging person I have ever had the pleasure of calling mine. (That includes her father, who has the annoying ability of driving me absolutely insane. I know. I'm blessed.) Tonight, my little angel has decided that she is going to do everything possible in her tiny toddler power to drive me up the wall. Pull out my computer cord. Get an almost empty milk carton out of the fridge and pour milk on the floor. Clog the toilet with the rest of the toilet paper on the roll. (Did I mention that was roll one of two that I have in the entire house? Yeah.) Take off her big-girl panties and dunk them in the full toilet. Throw all of her toys around her room. And laugh about all of it. This is my evening. I love my daughter. With every ounce of my heart. But tonight, I would love nothing more than to string her up by her toes. (That's just my saying. I would never do it. Please do not report me.) How do you handle a child who refuses to listen, is impervious to time outs, barely responds to spankings, and will do the thing you told her not to just to see what you'll do? It's not fair. It's not even my baby karma. It's my brother's. But, I guess since he claims he'll never have kids, it got passed down to me. Yay. Wish me luck. |