Maybe I’ve forgotten what Ben was like as a toddler. Maybe he was just as busy, just as ‘on the go’ as William. Or maybe he wasn’t. Honestly, I don’t remember. Ben has been out of the toddler phase for so long. Though his brother, well, he’s been smack in the middle of toddler hood for well over a year. And he’s hard. He’s hard to keep up with, hard to keep out of trouble.
Now, please don’t get me wrong. I love all the spunk and spirit that William wakes up with every day. I love his sense of adventure and his need for constant entertainment. I just, sometimes, wish he’d slow down for 20 minutes so I can have a break.
He does still nap most days…and if we’re lucky I can get 2 hours out of him…but by the time nap times comes around I’m exhausted too! So no, I don’t run around and get all my housework done…no.. I nap too. This leaves me a lot of work to do with children under foot. Maybe I should give up my naps, and work to get things done. I think about it quite often. Maybe I should get up earlier and go to bed later… but my body just doesn’t allow me the wakeful hours to get everything done. My body has made me very aware of the fact that without a full eight hours sleep at night, I can forget about being productive in any way shape or form the next day.
I lose an egg a day.
Not one of my girly eggs…though I can see them dwindling out with every tantrum I face.
I lose an egg, from the fridge. Everyday.
Usually because I’m in the middle of doing something and I don’t notice as he sneaks off to the kitchen and opens the fridge. He’s obsessed with eggs. Not eating them…though he likes them boiled and scrambled. He’s obsessed with breaking them. On the floor. Watching them crack and spew out. He likes to play in the mess, smear it around…and ultimately…I think he likes seeing my frustrated reaction.
Now, some might say he’s bidding for my attention. He’s trying to get me to spend more time just with him. I’d argue them. He has my attention 95% of the time. And he wont play with me…not for more than 45 seconds. He doesn’t like to color, to build or to sit. He likes to run and to jump (come’on spring). He likes to make a mad dash for the busy street instead of playing in the huge back yard. He likes to jump off the stairs and off the furniture. He likes to be a daredevil. No Fear.
He likes to make loud noises with pots and pans. Knock over chairs and slam my laptop closed. He likes to put his entire hand into my coffee and watch it drip all over the table. He likes to spit out his milk and lick it up like a dog. He likes to go limp when you try to pick him up. He likes to go through his gate like a battle ram, busting out of his room at bedtime. He likes to pull the video game wires down from the TV, annoying his older brother. He likes to be the centre of attention. He doesn’t like to be strapped in a high chair or car seat, and will fight you with all his strength.
He’s busy…he’s crazy…he’s William…and he’s 2.