.::still blinking::.

I realized this morning that I am in an abusive relationship…

with my toddler. Or as we have been calling him lately “The Gestapo”.

I don’t know which one of you taught him to smile like this, but when I find out, you are going to pay. I loved the candid photos I used to take and now every time I pull out the camera he pulls this goofy grin out of his pocket and applies it to his face.

Anyway, he does not like me to talk to anyone. He does not like that I talk to other gentlemen, in particular the one that I am married to. He HAS to know who I was just on the phone with. He tells me if he likes them or not. He likes baby josh, but I don’t talk to him a whole lot. He also likes Ross who throws dogs (stuffed ones) into the air and catches them.

He needs to know what I am doing at all times. “Mom, what doing?” Um, showering, like I said 30 seconds ago. “Mom, what doing?” Driving. “Mom, I drive.” No, not for another 14 years son. “Mom, what doing?” Making dinner. “I do it.” Ok, here is some flour and oatmeal in a bowl, go to town Emeril.

He hits me when I don’t do things the way he likes them. Like when I am taking him to his bed for a nap, I usually get a smack, for obvious reasons. What kind of heathen mother would put her angry son down for his afternoon nap? Probably the one that needs a break from the constant head butting in her pelvis. For I while I would give him a time out, but I figured he was hitting me to get more time out of bed. So now he just goes straight to bed.

He throws his food and drinks on the floor if it is not what he wants. I mean, how awful of me to feed him chips and salsa and chocolate milk for lunch, these are usually his favorite foods. What was I thinking? Obviously I wasn’t, and now I must pay, and go get him some Care Bear fruit snacks out of the pantry or he will hit me with the spoon he is planning to make dinner with.

As you can see I have a mini-Gestapo calling the shots around here. He says “Jump!” I say, “Master, would you like fries with that?”