I am convinced our son plots his attacks. It just seems like everything happens at the least convenient times.
Oh, you want to go to bed? I’m just going to scream for the next two hours and make sure that doesn’t happen.
Oh, we are about to leave the house and you really like that outfit you have on? Barf!
Oh, you are having a great conversation with the lady holding me? Let me poo on her dress.
Oh, something exciting is on TV? Let me pee all over the living room and short out the cable box.
Oh, you were going to sleep on this pillow tonight? Let me just cover it in baby vomit for you.
Oh, the laundry is finally caught up? I will fix that by peeing through three outfits, two blankets, and a few changing pads.
Oh, you just got my butt clean? Let me continue pooping all over the changing table… and then launch a little extra onto your shirt.
Oh, I have been a perfect angel while people were visiting? Now that they are gone, I will just scream bloody murder for hours on end.
Oh, thanks for changing my outfit? Let me just show my appreciation by puking, peeing, and pooping all over it.
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Seriously though… I think Munchie knows exactly what he is doing. When chaos erupts, I always see a little smirk on his face. Come on Alex… cut us some slack! We are still trying to figure this out! Hopefully, what we are experiencing is baptism by fire. At some point, things can only get better… right?
Momma Bish 