So I get these emails every week with the subject line "Your 19-Month-Old: Week 1; Week 2; Week 3"...you get the picture. So as the kid progresses I am privy to the things I can expect from this creature and milestones in which to look for. I'm questioning why not ONE of these emails has ever had the subject line: "Your 19-Month-Old: Hold onto your f*(%ing shorts!" Now I know not ALL kids are hell on wheels but you'd be hard-pressed to convince me that most boys aren't. I just could not have picked a more polar opposite from my daughter if I had tried. Granted she did/does have her issues as she decided that being awake for 92% of a given week is acceptable, she has just never pulled the kind of crap this one does. Which is why I believe I am constantly amazed and totally unprepared for the shenanigans The Ox brings to the table.
Let's take this morning...I left the room for TWO minutes to brush my teeth (heaven forbid I take ANY time for self-hygiene) and come back into the room after about 30 seconds of silence only to find the table, floor, breakfast nook and all associated walls covered in tomato juice! I do believe my exact words were "WTF!?" Partially because of the shock of seeing red splattered all over everything and instinctively thinking it was blood and the other part was just plain, old fashioned shock. This would have NEVER occurred to my female. Something of this nature would just never have even entered her mind. She would have written such off as preposterous! I don't know how I know this, I just do. I take that back...I think I know this because the same female had passed up the can of juice and pulled up a chair in the adjacent room once the tomfoolery commenced. I believe she KNEW what was going to happen next and thought she needed to take cover. Probably why she was buried under the couch cushions asking "What did Chase do, mommy?" My point is, I can leave her in a room to brush my teeth and know that when I come back into it 2 minutes later it will be as I left it. With the boy it is a literal crap shoot. Most of the time it is as though a bomb went off upon my exit. So am I supposed to get one of those kiddie leashes and attach him to me wherever I go? I have already conceded to the fact that we will have nothing of value or decency until he moves out. I left my eye glasses on my desk yesterday, turned my head to reach for some papers, turned back around to find him treating them like a Gumby toy, ripping them from limb to limb. Maybe he is testing their durability? I certainly know he is testing my patience.
And then this morning after our trip to the doctor (where we learned that not one but both children have contracted impetigo--most likely from dad's bout with Strep :-/) we were trying to scurry into the house. Ox decided that he needed to frolic in the yard for a moment which I completely encouraged. I stood by the door and watched them play for a bit at which point he scoped out a pile of fecal remnants in our front yard that was left by our neighbor's dog. His radar honed in on this pile and he conjured all of his mini-might to leap as high into the air as a toddler possibly could and land directly amidst the dung. WHAT ON EARTH WOULD POSSESS HIM TO DO THIS? He knew what it was...he kept saying "poop...poop!" and I do believe I have made it abundantly clear in our tenure together that poop is gross. But it is like a moth to a flame. A truly puzzling sight. So needless to say, I rushed into the house to arm my hand with something to pick up the piles and found a plastic grocery bag. Slipped it onto my hand as a glove of sorts...upon closing the claw, came to the realization that the bag had experienced a previous blow out and was without substance. Grabbing a dog pile with a bare hand brings a special sort of feeling to my heart...one part dumb ass, two parts disgust, one part IRE with a dash of disbelief.
They say you can start your day over at any time. I've pressed the "redo" button on this day twice already. Hoping things can only get better from here...
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