Toddler Life

Life changes when you have a toddler.

Even the dogs have had enough of the singing puppy who lights up at the merest suggestion of a breathe in its vicinity.

You can’t walk across your living room, for example, without walking on a block or tripping over a toy that inevitably lights up and sings some obnoxious song just as you have put said willful toddler down for a nap after 45 minutes of fighting and tears (yours). No, ABC Puppy, you are not my friend, no matter how enthusiastically you proclaim it as my toe grazes your paw.

A banana mocks our carefree days of having just met.

You find random bits of half-eaten food lying around on plates … or just the floor itself.

The toilet paper does not live on the roll. Ever. Or else this happens:

Via.

Everything in the pantry gets shoves on the top two shelves, making it virtually impossible to find anything ever.

I’m just going to need those Cheddar Bunnies, and then I’ll be on my way.

No. Really.

If you make the mistake of leaving anything within arm’s reach, this happens:

If I close my eyes, it’s like this flour is the sand between my toes at the beach.

Ditto for the bookshelf.

Where is Crime and Punishment?

Fuck Henry James.

Dog food is an excuse for expressionist art. Or snacks. (Not pictured due to gross-out factor. My own.)

Early Kibble-ist.

If I can’t find something, it’s probably in the trash. Because that’s where my toddler seems to think that everything goes.

Or the tub.

We’re raising environmentally conscious types here.

Basically, living with a toddler is like living with that drunk person who has a lot of intense theories about life and who wants to talk to you about all of them while raiding your fridge and rifling through your book collection. Meanwhile, you just know that you’re going to have to clean everything up and sleep it off once he leaves. Except he never leaves.

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