Toddlers are Psychotic

Mom - 0, Violet - WINNING

Violet is three and a half. Yes, I said three and a half. None of this 42 months business for me. I mean, seriously. At some point in toddlerhood you’ve got to switch over to years people or I’m stuck counting on my fingers every time I ask someone the age of their child.

I’ve actually had moms tell me stuff like 27 months. Just say 2 years old!

But I digress.

Violet is three and some change and she has reached a — how do I say, interesting — stage. What I should say is she’s straight up being a jerk, but, well, she might read this some day and I love that girl with every beat of my heart so let’s just stick with interesting.

Here’s a bit of what’s going down over here at the Bielanko homestead:

Most recently I had the unmitigated gall to pour her a cup of milk and serve it to her at the table. How dare I? In response? A milk boycott of epic proportions. She couldn’t be near the tainted cup of milk, couldn’t even have it in her eyesight, so ruined was this cup of milk that mom had the nerve to procure without Violet’s careful instruction and subsequent assistance. Her highness has ruled the milk disgusting, UNDRINKABLE, therefore it must be sent into exile. And I am the worst mother ever what with all my willy-nilly, permissionless milk-pouring.

The aforementioned milk boycott manifested in Violet leaving the dinner table in tears and placing the small cup of milk on the floor of the living room, like some sort of shrine or offering to the Milk Gods, where she wouldn’t have to see it and where Max would immediately gulp it down without regard for the Milk Gods. And then, AND THEN, 30 seconds later she calmly requested “Cold milk, please.” in a no nonsense tone that implied No more sh!t from you, lady, or there’ll be hell to pay. As if the whole thing never even happened. Cool as a cucumber she got the milk out of the fridge and assisted in the pouring and returned to the table to drink it down, lickety-split.

If you want to read more about Violet’s shenanigans so you can feel like you aren’t the only Worst Mother In The World you’re going to have to click on over to my personal blog, The Girl Who. But I warn you, there is some salty language there. How else can you describe life with a toddler without utilizing a couple four letter words? AMIRIGHT?

What crazy stuff is your toddler up to these days?

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