#toddler problems

[tchaikovskym]

i am 22 years old but i still suffer from "i just brushed my teeth time to eat something" disease

[allthelightaboveit2]

I've never quite found my niche on tumbler. I've had a few different tumbler journals under different names from PLL fandom to parenting to funny random shit; but I don't think I ever truly found what I was looking for on this interface. Until now. Jack is almost 3. We are about to age out of the early intervention program and are still 100% non verbal. We have an interview with the school district this week for an evaluation for continued services. I'm stressed and scared and sad and most importantly, helpless. Today he went for his fourth hair cut. I tried explaining it to him. I tried to help him through it but our communication skills are shit and instead he was shaking and sobbing and panicking while I held him still and kissed him. A boy half his age sat next to us, eating his sucker, shouting "Mickey!" "Donald" "goofy!" As their characters crossed the screen and I sobbed the entire way home. I want my baby to talk. I want him to enjoy the sucker at the barber shop. I want him to be less frustrated. I want to not feel like the biggest asshole ever for feeling embarrassed. I love him so fiercely and I will fight for his voice if it's the last thing I do. Maybe this can be my outlet.

[conversationswithhank]

Molly: (stomping into the kitchen, pouting) Mama?

Me: Yes, lovie? Why the trombas (pouting)?

Molly: (arms crossed around her waist, focused on her mission, persuasive gestures to back up her argument) Papa’s birfday?

Me: Yes, papa’s birthday was on Sunday.

Molly: Yah.

Me: (chopping vegetables)

Molly: Papa’s birfday no Molly’s birfday.

Me: No, it isn’t.

Molly: Mano (Hank’s) birfday?

Me: Yes, Mano’s (Hank’s) birthday is on Monday.

Molly: Yah.

Me: (adding water to a pot of veg to make soup)

Molly: Mano’s birfday no Molly’s birfday.

Me: No, it isn’t.

Molly: When MY birfday? When my Hulkie (The Incredible Hulk) birfday, mama?

Me: (placing the pot on the stove, scooping her up in my arms) Oh, MaGoo.

Molly: (sadder than she should be) Papa há (have) birfday. Mano há (have) birfday. Where my Hulkie birfday? (sad kitten face)

Me: (slumping to the floor, pulling her into my lap) First is papa’s birthday, then is mano’s (Hank’s) birthday, then is Halloween and theeeeeeennnnn is Molly’s Hulkie Birthday.

Molly: (on the verge of tears, shaking her head no) No today?

Me: No, not today, but after Molly’s Hulkie Birthday is (whisper scream) Christmas! (jazz hands)

Molly: (brightening up) Chrissssssmiss?

Me: Yes! And there will be Christmas lights and Christmas food and wooby blankets and pajamas with feet and singing and chocolate.

Molly: (clutching her laced fingers to her chest, revived) And Chrisssssmiss?

Me: Yes, but first?

Molly: (returns to sore defeat) No my birfday.

Me: Oh, honey. Soon, your birthday is real soon. (brushing her hair from her face) Time flies, trust me.

Molly: (done feeling sorry for herself, pointing to the veg and water on the stove) Me mix it?

Me: Yes, please! You make the best soup. (hobbling up with the grace of a newborn dear, bringing the soup pot to the floor and retrieving a wooden spoon from the drawer)

Molly: Me mix it? Me mix, MAMAM? Me mix.

Me: Yes, please. Thank you for your help, Amália.

Molly: (mixing the veg and water, tasting the soup, pinkie extended, super professional) Need salt, mama.

[giraffeonstrike]

Here's a conversation I had with my niece today...

Niece: Elo...you like my new baby sister?

Me: Yes of course, I love you both a lot!

Niece: No.

Me: Uhhh...no?

Niece: No. Hey, Elo...

Me: *apprehensive* Yes?

Niece: MY baby sister lives at YOUR house, okay?

Me: I think I have too many babies at my house already...

Niece: Lolla (Lyra) can live at MY house okay? With me.

Me: I'm sorry, Aunt Peach won't let me trade babies.

She turns and runs into the kitchen where my wife, her Aunt Peach, is making chicken nuggets...

Niece: AUNT PEACH! No! That's not sweet! You SHARE!

I swear I didn't mean to get anyone in trouble today, I was just trying to keep the same babies I started out with.

[ghostys-posts]

guys hopefully my toddler learned when I say he shouldn't drink my iced espresso coffee, he won't. He sneaked into the kitchen, drank a bit and was terrible disgusted. Unfortunately so much that he puked on my freshly moped floor. So I'm not sure who's the winner here.

[yourebuckingkiddingme]

Fucking called out by my 3y/o for my eating habits (or lack thereof) this morning...

[thecrazyashley-blog]

If I ever find the bastard that decided the perfect default volume for toddler toys was "Icepick in the ear during a hangover" I will personally beat them to death with a three day old catch of albacore tuna and send their bones to their family in a box of catshit.

Because fucking hell.

[just-messing-around]

It was surprisingly difficult to get the (gluten free, so they're safe for me) pancakes or 'Fun Cakes' into these shapes, even with the help of food molds.

They just kept getting f-ed up. I only gave him the ones that ended up turning out decently.

And he didn't even take

One

Single

Bite.

It looks like he did, because of how one is torn, but I was with him from the moment he sat down to the moment we left the table. He didn't actually put any in his mouth.

Yet he still called them 'cahcah' (however you spell that weird word) and seemed to be asking for the rolled omelette I made for him last week.

Not like I could make him one, anyway. That omelette took 6 eggs and I only have 1 left. Not enough!

Uhg. Maybe I'll have someone pick up some apples for me later in the week and I can try to do that thing where you cut the peeling on the slices? Because for whatever reason people do it, it ends up reminding me of a rabbit, so maybe that appearance and the fact that Teddy likes some fruits might get him to eat if I make them the main food and add just a little bit of something else on the side?