I was just chatting with my SIL Kim about how weird two year olds are. I mean, where do they come up with this stuff?? How do they decide that they suddenly hate something or fear something or refuse something? And how does it all change so fast? One minute they love baths, the next minute baths are a pool of fiery torture sent by the devil himself. Just wanting to record this for history’s sake- here is some weirdness that Ryan’s dealing with right now.

BATHS. Has always loved them. Always. Never wants to get out, plays to his heart’s content. Suddenly baths are to be loathed. Some fear has developed surrounding baths, and it seems to have something to do with baths being “dirty.” Which I believe stemmed from this one time when Daddy didn’t wipe off Ry’s bottom well enough and there appeared a few specks of residual bottom-doo floating in the tub. From then on ALL bath water is DIRTY and is to be avoided like the plague. During one particularly fussy bath night I thought maybe it would be novel for mom to hop in the tub WITH Ryan, but holy hannah hell, THAT was completely unnacceptable. Mama in the tub with Ryan is not okay. (Which is fine by me- he’s probably getting too old for that anyway).

DARK ROOMS. Unless there is a light on in a room, the room is dark. And thus, the room is too dark for Ryan to enter. It’s the middle of the day but the blinds are closed? Too dark. Must then scream and holler and shout about DARK ROOM DARK IN THERE and demand that mom turn the light on before he enters. He also insists that lights must be turned on wherever we roam in the house, no matter how much natural sunlight is already lighting up the space.

POTTY TRAINING. I think I can officially say that potty training is over, folks. No, he is not trained. It has ended. Done. He’s stopped everything and anything having to do with potties. You see, poor little dude decided to eat too much cheese, and then had a little backlog of the #2. He refused to use the potty all weekend at the cabin. Then the poor little dude decided to eat his weight in red pepper, and well…he developed a bad case of fire booty. The constipation combined with the terrible red-pepper rash has created in his mind a terrible fear and dread of pooing on the potty. He will not even go near the thing. So now I’m back to changing diapers- another activity he abhors- and I’m left to deal with a kicking, screaming, flailing 30 pounder. Not sure how all this affects the #1 side of things in the potty training, but he’s basically refusing to do that, too. If we even go near the bathroom he starts having a little mini fit of rage and shouting NO POTTY NO POTTY NO POTTY NO NO NO!!! It’s lovely.

He’s also perfected his stalling tactics for whenever he doesn’t want to do something, and thinks it’s SO funny to run away from you squealing when you ask him to come to you. Oh the joys. Oh all the joys.

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