Rowan has been exhibiting extreme terroristic behavior again. his mission: search and destroy.
it all started when he threw my vase across the room. because I filled his cup with water instead of milk. (never mind the fact that it was ten o'clock in the morning and already he'd consumed one cup of juice and two cups of milk.) before I could react, the vase hit the carpet, bounced once and landed on the tile, shattering into hundreds of pieces. in the time it took to clean up that mess, he had scurried upstairs, dumped an entire bottle of shampoo on the bathroom floor and was slip and sliding in it, the empty bottle left floating in the toilet.
and then. THEN. while I was busy hanging some clothes to dry, he got into my spice cupboard and proceeded to pour the (very large Sam's Club size) can of black pepper and the jar of garlic powder into my kitchen aid bowl and was "mixing" the two together, a huge grin on his face. "mom, making!" correction: you're "making" another mess, child. and because that wasn't enough, he got a hold of Jake's glasses (which Jake "claims" were in the case on the top shelf in his closet) and bent the frame all up.
and that was just monday, people.
ALSO. I won't mention that (over the course of the week) he broke my meat thermometer, colored on the girls' beds and carpet with marker, spread their scrapbook supplies all over, spilled half a carton of orange juice, left bite marks in every single apple, pooped in the tub while I was giving him a bath and emptied out the shoe closet. five times.
you guys, I don't need a haircut anymore because guess what? I just pulled all my hair out.
he even ruffled Gary's feathers, who's as calm, cool and collected as they come.
so, the million dollar question: how do you discipline a terroristic, serial tub-pooper, thrill-seeking two year-old? you can't reason with this age; they don't understand consequences. I've scolded, done the time-out thing, pleaded, cried, even threatened to sell him on ebay. it's like talking to a brick wall-- I can't get through to him.
maybe some of you have dealt with a naughty child like this. do you have any
so hey! help a fellow mom (at her wits end) out, would ya? or at the very least, throw some words of encouragement my way. just don't be all, honey, that ain't nothin'. add seven more kids, a broken washing machine, and a teenager who just walked in the door carrying a goat with hoof and mouth disease. average friday night right THERE.
|note: pictures taken AFTER I discovered the bent glasses. I thought they were goners, but Gary was able to fix them. PHEW.|
after taking these pictures, I realized what a fool I was in doing so. because his little pea-sized brain understood this as: hey! mom thinks I'm cute and funny when I'm naughty. from this point on, I will make it my personal mission to destroy everything in this entire house. (oh but isn't he cute?)
I suppose it could be worse.
like when he's 16 and his phone call begins, "um, yeah. like, so. you didn't need the bumper on the car, right?"