So, the other night, Choo-choo was finally done with his dinner. We had washed his hands, but I forgot to clean his face. We walked back to the bathroom, and I started cleaning off the chili and yogurt. Choo-choo, however, had other ideas.
He bit me. He just straight up bit my finger and screamed because heaven forbid his mouth and cheeks weren’t crusted with food. Of course, I was mad at this point. Fine, I thought, have a dirty face. What do I care?
I ushered him back to the living room. He continued to cry and ask for a tissue. I started handing him the box when he shouted that he wanted to get it himself. So the box of tissues sat on the chair, easily within his reach, only he now wanted me to get the tissue for him. Then, the icing on the cake: he begged me to wash his face. You know, the thing I tried to do and he bit me for.
I just have to say I hate this age he is in. I so very much hate it. Everything from him is a contradiction. One day he likes a certain food, the next he despises it. If I say his food is too hot to eat, he says no, it isn’t. Anything I say to him is met with a completely opposite statement or opinion. Anything he previously liked, he hates until it is about to be taken away from him.
And yes, I do understand about the whole toddler autonomy thing and how he’s learning how to speak his mind, so on and so on. But why on earth does he have to disagree with me about absolutely everything?
I will tell you this much: If I still have hair by this winter, consider me lucky.