Wanna know how off-the-charts bad today is? Mid-morning I taught my three-year-old the word “defenstrate.” And used it in a sentence with him as the object.
He wanted to know if you just throw somebody if that’s defenestrating. Nope. If you throw somebody *at* a window, is it defenestration? Nope.
“Please don’t throw me out of the window, Mommy.”
“I won’t babe. I would never do anything to hurt you, and defenestration might hurt. I would never do anything to scare you, and defenstration might scare you. I just really need you to know the word defenestration right now because I really, really, really thought about it a minute ago.”
“Oh. [beat.] Which window you thinkin’ bout, Mommy?”
Any of ’em, sweetie. All of ’em.
Want to hear a few more? Of course you do. All just from today…
Unsolicited, screeching, as I tried to distract by offering to read several new library stories, “Aaaaaaaaaaaaaargh! I’m driving you nuts, Mommy!”
Throwing a fistful of toys in the air and yelling, “Rooooooar! I’m really not nice today!”
Clawing at my face, “Mommy I show you how that tree scratch me and then I go out and hit that tree!”
Oh my word, he’s making me earn every minute of child-free rest I’ve been promised this weekend. Virgin America, take me away. [I can’t put this post in the “shoot me now” category, which I reserve for godawful days, because then I wouldn’t get this, my first weekend away. So don’t shoot me now. Please.]