Wanda’s been spending a lot of time in the joint lately. Our personal joint is a spot in the hall outside the bathroom door. There is no worse place on earth than the time out spot. Placing her in it is practically child abuse.
Her emotions are just so raw and untamed and we aggrevate them by doing things like letting Magoo eat a lollipop he got for Valentine’s Day, asking Wanda to stop throwing wooden blocks in the house, and letting other people celebrate birthdays.
Here are a few classic shots from Laylee’s birthday earlier this year.
So to help her comply with our unreasonable demands, I’ve started the time-honored tradition of counting her down to obedience.
“Wanda. You need to bring me that permanent maker and that chainsaw.”
“Wanda. One. Two…”
The other day, about halfway through the fiftieth round of counting that day, she yelled, “Mamma, NO! Stop THREEING!”
I will. I will totally stop threeing as soon as baby girl stops twoing with such unyielding persistence.