He knows that I can’t easily get up to stop him from doing most anything.
He knows that I can’t yell at him, regardless of what he’s getting into.
He completely understands he can get away with murder… if baby Paul is breastfeeding.
Daily, I’m fighting a losing battle with this little boy. Feeling extremely helpless and defeated, I don’t know what to do.
It’s clear that over the past couple months, my 23-month-old son has gained a significant amount of independence, and he is now having a great time exercising his new found abilities.
For instance, he’s learned that he’s strong enough to open the refrigerator door all by himself, which results in him bringing me a full carton of omggeee fruit punch, from across the living room and up a flight of stairs. He’s also gotten brave enough to help himself to anything he pleases in the pantry. A jar of nutella for snack? Sure!
And just this past week, he’s learned where I keep my phone while it’s charging. On a related note, my phone has been sitting in a rice coffin ever since it met its match with a glass of water.
This kid is naughty and most of his mischief is done while I breastfeed his brother.
Is there a quick fix to this problem? Probably not. Am I frustrated and losing my mind? Oh yeah, baby.
I know this phase will pass, and someday these little boys will be big boys. But for today, I just wanted to rant a bit about how hard it is to raise little kids.
More Babbling from Emily…