Today we have a guest post from our almost-two-year-old, Butter. He was inspired this morning to start composing this. And since I started this blog when his brother was just a bit older than Butter is now, I thought it would be a nice beginning to The Years That Require Some Coping Mechanism.
Take it away, Butterbean.
***
Want to know what’s fun about being almost Two? Everything. Except when they try to do things for you. Blech. They don’t know anything. Why would I want shoes or socks or pants? If you don’t want shoes or socks or pants, just tell them. Loudly. They’ll give up. And then, guess what? No shoes or socks or pants!
Want to know what’s fun about being almost Two? Dumping. And Throwing. Today I asked the Cuddle Lady to get me a game so I could dump out all the plastic disks into the box, then dump the box into my truck, then dump my truck into another truck, then dump all the disks on the floor. When I asked her to put them back in the bags so I could dump again she said “yes.” I like “yes.” I also like “uh-oh.” Uh-oh means people pay attention and say gentle words and clean up for you.
I don’t like shoes or socks or pants.
Want to know what’s fun about being almost Two? Chalk. Today the Cuddle Lady game me some chalk and I dumped it on the floor. Guess what? Chalk makes More Chalk if you dump it. I took my More Chalk and put it in the cup thing that goes with other cup things in my drawer of cup things. Then I poured the More Chalk into a different cup thing. Then I dumped it on the floor. Guess what? Even More Chalk. Back into the cup thing and into the other cup thing and onto a table and onto the floor and into the cup thing and then guess what? Some of the Even More Chalk was dirt! Lello dirt and purpu dirt and boo dirt and orja dirt! I pinched that into the dirtpan then dumped it on the table. Then I put stickers on it. Stickers with BEES! Then the Cuddle Lady said it was time for pants. Boy, was she wrong. Uh-oh, Cuddle Lady. Time to clean Even More Chalk.
Know what’s fun about being almost Two? Lunch! The Cuddle Lady calls not-quite-bathtime food at the table “dinner” and morning food at the table “breakfast” but food walking around the kitchen or in the yard is “lunch.” Lunch means no shoes or socks or pants. Lunch is yay!
The most yay is potty. Being almost Two means taking off your pants, and sometimes taking off your pants and sitting on the potty. If you tell your Cuddle Lady or Poky Face to stay away while you’re on the potty, then when you’re done you can throw the potty. And guess what? Throwing the potty is even more fun than dumping the potty! Everything flies out of the potty.
Flying out of the potty is yay!
Uh-oh. Cuddle Lady says pants. And dinner. Pants and dinner are not yay. Time to make more uh-ohs so Cuddle Lady will talk gently and forget about pants. While she’s cleaning the potty throwing, I’ll climb up to the table and dump dinner.
Bye-bye!
NaptimeWriting 
Oh yes – I so don’t miss this stage. My older daughter is a little past three so of course there’s a new nightmare that comes with that and my younger is only eight months, which means this will be us sooner than I realize. Sigh…
Potty throwing? Uh-oh. Poor Cuddle Lady!
@Justine I still have nightmares about Three. Seriously. Three is what pretty much derailed all that was gentle and good in our parenting. We’re just getting our mojo back three years later. I weep for you. And eight months? Awesome. Separation anxiety outweighed by the fact that they’re happy to do whatever you want. Yay for flexibility.
@Melissa LOL. Sweetcream Butter is soooooo lucky he lives in California. To be fair, I’m pretty good at tricking him, and get him willingly into pants for the daily walk to Peanut’s school. But there’s a lot of nakedness in a relatively cold house/backyard. Wasted calories, all that nakedness is.
The potty throwing is about to kill me. I was patient with wet floors and with accidents, but getting it all in the right places then tossing it? What an exercise in Total Waste of My Time and Patience.
I caught an almost-airborne, full potty today. Only to find it was full of Legos. [cue Yosemite Sam’s “frickafracka’]
Dear Butter, I hear that you do not like pants! Pants are no fun. Do you know what else is no fun? Hypothermia. No fun at all. Something to consider.
;)
PERFECT—-as I remember
Ah, gramps. He is pretty perfect, as this sort of creature goes. ;-) Thanks for stopping by!
I love you. And Butter. ps: Peanut too.
Ah, Kitch. I love you, too. They don’t know enough to love you, but they will. Butter quickly and Peanut very very very very slowly (and then definitively).
Hey naptime, thanks for stopping by last week! I am going to try to join Daryl for the Gravity’s Rainbow read. Ramona turns 1 on Wednesday, and of course that sure makes it hard to do anything other than play with her!
By the way, she’s been a wonderful little potty sitter since about 8 months – almost all of her poopies and lots of peepees go in it. And stay in it, so far, but that is because we are always sitting with her, too.
Infinite Tasks, its good to hear from you! It feels like forever since Infinite Summer, and I still haven’t popped over for an office visit. Soon. When all the wee ones are in school.
I do believe I’m officially roped into the Pynchon read. I’ve been meaning to tackle it, and I’d rather do it with you fine folks.
Potty sitting is fun. The eldest loved to read and sing and talk whilst exploring the fun of civilized elimination. This younger fellow is a fickle lad and often demands privacy. Or his brother demands a snack. Or something runs afoul of the very bright idea of attending a naked toddler. Alas. Upside? Hardwood floors. Nigh invulnerable.
Just don’t Ramona read anything Butter writes and we’ll all be just fine.
“The most yay” = heart-meltingly sweet.
I want to say “the most yay” as much as possible this week.
Your kids are adorable.
ps: You are adorable, too. I mean: you are The Most Yay.
The Cuddle Lady? I LOVE it! :)
Oh man. You sure leaving him alone is the right move?
@Ink I think I’ll use “the most yay,” too. For the record, he didn’t say any of that. He can pretty much only say “cracker,” “yellow,” “ninja,” and “eyeball.” Clearly he has an older brother.
@Jane I though about calling myself The Milk Lady, but that’s a morning and evening thing only now. And I’m not yet The Rule Lady or They Killjoy Lady as I am for Peanut. So Cuddle Lady it is.
@Cathy No, leaving him alone is never the right choice. Never ever ever. But I still have to do it, occasionally. And even if I’m right there he wants to carry the potty to the toilet, and loudly refuses help. Then gleefully tosses it at me. And I hate that he’s so cute while he does it. Because: seriously. Y.U.C.K.