{It's a Mad Mad Mad Mad World}

Welcome to Toddlerdom!

"It was the best of times, it was the worst of times..."

Ain't that the truth?!

This is a collection of mini-stories {shorter than short stories} that have taken place over the last few weeks:

My son was laying on our long vanity {counter} in our bathroom. I was changing his diaper. I had undone the tabs and was leaning away from him trying to peel a wipe apart from the stack. Having no luck, I took all hands off my son and continued to try to wrench this particular wipe away from the others. As I look back to check on my son, I see him do the unthinkable. He reached down between his legs, took hold of his {untabbed} diaper, and yanked. To my horror {and I'm sure his}, the POOPY diaper landed square on his FACE. From under the diaper, I heard a shocked whine of complete panic and confusion. I came to his rescue, removing the diaper, only to find a human patty ON. HIS. FACE. I quickly went into {Disinfect Mode}. And my son? Let's just say he hasn't done THAT again.

On this same foul day, as I was most assuredly doing something incredibly important (yeah, right), my son was running to and from the bathroom. This should have been a sign. A flashing neon sign at that. But, I was preoccupied. Finally, my awareness sharpened and I began to take it all in. The pitter patter of excited little feet. The Oreo wrapper. The splash of water. Oh yes, my son was dipping the Oreo wrapper IN. THE. TOILET.

Then there was the day {thank goodness, a different day}, when I forgot to put away ONE crayon. One BLUE crayon. Yes, the other 23 were safely put away, but that ONE LITTLE BLUE CRAYON was not. And so, it was on my previously white bathroom door. My TV screen. My brand-new TV console. A better mom might have taken pictures of the little blue drawings of her {prodigy}. I, however, disciplined my son and scrubbed away the blue.

At this point, I'm sure you are wondering "So isn't this just 'the worst of times'??" Close. But then there was the time he was playing in my mother-in-law's backyard, near the air conditioner unit, and it kicked on. He went into a panic, signed "HELP!", and ran to us, looking over his shoulder at the monster that had come to life.

There was the time he disassembled his potty chair, dragged the bottom portion of it into my bedroom {upside down}, straddled it, and began to ride it, pretending it was a "vroom vroom."

There was also the day, at his great-grandmother's house, that he finally "got" a new sign and signed "MORE" and "HELP" with such enthusiasm and excitement that my mom and I died laughing.

There are the times {plural!} that he grabs my face and kisses me. The times he crawls into my lap just to get a hug, then hops back down. The times he looks at me, smiles at me, and laughs {'course you would too if you saw me when I first wake up}.

There are many more "best" and "worst" times, these are just a few. {Ahh, The Life of a Temporarily Single Mom with an 18-month-going-on-18-year-old}

{No animals or humans were harmed during the making of this blog, however: while writing this blog, my son began to pester me. I looked him in the eye and said, "I am writing a story about YOU. It's called 'It's a Mad Mad Mad Mad World." To which he replied, "MAD MAD MAD MAD MAD!" Then knocked over a lamp.}