There are a few signs that a woman may indeed, own a toddler.
If you enter her home and you see large splotches of food on her table, chairs, and floor, she may indeed, have a toddler in the home.
If she then goes to stick her head in an over, she absolutely has a toddler in the home.
If she starts to talk to you in a slow manner, telling you that something you are doing may or may not be a “good choice,” she definitely owns a toddler.
If she looks like a mental patient or disheveled like she’s had a one-night stand and is now attempting the infamous “walk of shame,” she has a toddler within arm’s reach.
Toddlers are adorable, fun, spirited, and amazing little energies.
They’re also moody, bi-polar, and sometimes, a bit aggressive.
My daughter changes her mind about food items within seconds.
“I want it.”
“I don’t want it.”
“I want it.”
If this is what grownup females happen to be like, I feel bad for men. How can choosing between pancakes or cereal be that difficult? I would answer the question except for I myself, may have a tough time deciding.
Toddlers think everything is “mine.”
Really, I want to remind my kid that nothing is hers until mommy or daddy buys it…so technically it’s “mine,” although I’m not so sure I would look very cute carrying a burp cloth around with pictures of trucks embroidered all over.
A sign that a woman may be the mother of a toddler is the numerous stickers stuck all over her furniture. If you go to use her toilet paper, you may see Dora or Cinderella staring at you from the toilet paper holder. If you sit up to pull up your pants, you may have just sat on Dora’s face…
Let’s not even go there.
If a woman is covering her ears and hiding in a corner, she may indeed have a toddler.
Toddlers can be affectionate and sweet, yet they can also be pushy, bossy, and demanding.
Apparently, the type of cup my daughter drinks her milk or water in is very important. I get requests like I am a line cook. This isn’t the damn diner kid, drink your milk in whatever cup is clean…apparently that’s all I need to be mother of the year.
There’s an utter joy in parenting a toddler. It’s never dull, and the highs are intense, and the lows, challenging. Maybe I enjoy this because I have some sick codependent desire to deal with mentally fragile people, or maybe I just cannot help loving the kid who throws every piece of food onto the floor right as I am telling her not to…only for her to tell me, “I’m sorry I threw the food on the floor mommy.”
Maybe I am just a masochist or a sucker for kids with big pot bellies, skinny legs, and dirty hands.
I love my indecisive, food-throwing, no-shouting, restaurant-running around, child.
She’s my maniac, and I claim her.
Hopefully she will take good care of me when I’m older and the people in coats take me away…