It seems I don't need to run the house anymore. There's a new guy in town. He's tough. He's demanding. And not in the least bit reasonable. Yep, welcome to life with our two year old.
Don't nobody think he's getting in the pram. Coz he aint. And don't anybody even think about helping push the pram. Coz there is only one pram pusher in this house. The two year old. Yep, we make a trip around the corner look laughable, like some sort of snail paced marathon with a two-foot-tall angry turtle in charge.
What was that? You wanted to leave the house to get to the kiddy class on time? Hahaha. The two year old laughs in the face of leaving the house on time. Coz he is craaazy like that. Just coz your'e the mum doesn't mean you make the rules. Oh no, because he will cry, and stamp and throw god damn biscuit bitties all over the house... until he is ready. So don't you even dare rush him. Coz the two year old will decide these things from now on.
So you'd become quite comfortable with your two hour lunch-break (kiddy-nap-time) had you? What you use this time as some sort of secret mental nirvana to keep your sanity? Well the two year old says NO. And when he says NO you don't second guess that shit. So quit your whinging and get on with it.
Oh man. There is gonna be some sort of epic game of thrones, survival of the fittest, battle to the ... ok not to the death, but battle extraordinaire this week. Mama bear is taking back the reigns. Hopefully. Or at least a little bit. Please? God damn. It's lucky he's the cutest little monster around.