The mind of a 20-month-old boy

I love my son Cormac James to an infinite amount of little bitty, itty witty, wittle (made-up word) pieces. So much so that it hurts. In fact, this morning as I drove him to daycare, I cried as I looked at his adorable contemplative face in the rear-view mirror (Yes, he faces front now—In your face, AAP child seat guidelines!) Anyway, I cried because this sweet little child is MINE. I made him (with some help) and I get to watch him grow up, and learn to do really cool things, and become a respectable young man who loves his mommy more than any other girl in the world!

But I also have to watch him fall down sometimes (tear), get sick occasionally (double tear), and nearly stick a fork in the head of an unsuspecting customer at Tee-Jay's. ...Yeah, I think I'd definitely cry at the thought of getting sued for that one.

It's a good thing I love this kid so much, because there are the occasional days when he drives me absolutely nuts. I mean, he's a toddler and can barely speak and is only like 33 inches tall and wears a diaper. He poops in his own pants. But somehow this seemingly helpless and innocent little one has the upper hand on me and daddy, most of the time.

Maybe it's a boy thing. I don't know, I only have a boy and I only have one of them so I have nothing to compare it to, really. But it seems like they are typically more mischievous than their female counterparts. Not smarter—definitely not smarter—just more willing to push the envelope and all sense of peace and orderliness.

Now I fully expect every child to be just that—a child. To run around, pull out toys, occasionally scream at the top of their lungs for no reason, to smack the dog and laugh each time. But then they have their down time, right? ...Sit and read a book for 15 minutes? ...Right?

I swear I see little girls doing this.

But Mac? No way, Jose. And I bet if you have a little boy(s) you can relate. Or maybe you have a crazy little lady and can relate. Do you sometimes feel as if the following is what is going on inside your kid's head at night? That wonderful little "witching" hour right before bedtime?

Try to pull cord out of wall. Yank hard, yank hard, yank hard. (laugh, scream, run)
Glass cup on corner of table. Reach for it, grab it, throw it down. (laugh, scream, run)
Laptop is open. Hit every key. Pick it up. Drop it. (laugh, scream, run)
Everything on the coffee table, throw it on the floor.
Everything on the side table, throw it on the floor.
Everything in the toy bin, throw it on the floor. (laugh, but definitely don't actually play with anything)
Everything in mommy's purse, pull it out and throw it on the floor.
Everything in your diaper bag, pull it out and throw it on the floor.
A new pack of diapers! Pull each one out and throw it on the floor.
Take a second to notice the clippers you recently removed from the diaper bag, and act like you're trying to clip your toenails.

...Awe, that's actually kind of cute. (tear) But the second I think he's sitting for a second, he gets bored and jumps up.

"Mommy, mommy, mommy, mommy, mommy, mommy, mommy, mommy!"
"Cheese, cheese, cheese, cheese, cheese, cheese, cheese, cheese!"
"Wawa, wawa, wawa, wawa, wawa, wawa, wawa, wawa, wawa, wawa!" (water)
(Five seconds of chugging)
Throw cup at Roxy. Smack Roxy repeatedly. Hit daddy with a book repeatedly. (laugh, scream, run)
Climb atop window seat and bang head and hands against window for 20 minutes.
Pull a leaf off of every plant on the window seat.
Launch yourself off of window seat and start crying.

BEDTIME!!!!

And you know what? The kid just grabs his Binky, waves bye-bye to daddy, and walks (crawls) upstairs to his bedroom for "night, night." And then I hold him, and rock him for a second, and kiss his forehead, and lay him down, and rub the temples of his forehead, and walk out the door. And he falls asleep. (We have it easy, for now, I know).

And then I pass out on the couch. And wonder how the heck we will deal with two of them come August.