He’s finally in bed. I can vent. I’m not sure what’s going on with Boychild. Is the moon in Like, Virgo or Ophiuchus or something? Is Venus in retrograde? Cuz someone is in a rude phase recently. I understand that the pooping in the tub was accidental

-Uh-oh. I hear the creaking of the crib springs. He’s still awake. Shhh. He’ll know I’m talking about him.

Anyhow, where was I? Ah, yes. Rude phase. He really likes to hit me. I tell him all the right things- no, that hurts, we don’t hit living things, etc. So my smart boy has taken to pinching me. He’ll grab my arm skin between two fingers and just squeeze til he gets an “ow”.The other thing he does in lieu of hitting me is he will chew on me. He won’t bite- he knows that’s wrong- but he will just sort of gently gnaw on me. It doesn’t hurt. It is odd, though, like getting a toddler hickey. He will also bite my shirt. He won’t bite me, just my shirt. My guy is already testing rules, boundaries and limitations. He knows how to evade the law.

At 2.5, BoyChild’s favorite pastime is throwing everything. Hard. He’s like a speedball pitcher dude, throwing at 90mph. What’s that sport? Baseball? Yeah. He’s like a really fast pitch-baller. And he will throw and throw and throw. It’s all so much fun to him! He casually lobbed noodles, bananas, broccoli, eggs- Anything that could break or be bruised EASILY out of the grocery cart. He has a blast! So FUNNY. It’s even better if he hits someone or something. I’ve never been a flincher- one who flinches easily. Having a toddler has changed that. All BC has to do is raise his little chubby hand, and I wince. Usually that hand is holding an item- a toy, acorns, a hammer- just at the ready to throw it at my head or at the poor cats. I should give them both tiny shields and helmets. Adorable and practical!

We went to a local toy store and my little gent began to throw toys out of the easily-accessible display cubbies. The proprietress said, “Now, you’ve got to pick those up! I’ve got to know where they are!” He kept tossing. She said, “Don’t throw those, honey!”  I wanted to look at her and say, “Beach please, he’s two. You can have this fight with him but you will lose.” at the checkout counter she said to BC “Did you pick all those toys up?” I stifled an eye roll. “No.” I said. “Mama picked them up.” This lady. Man.

BC’s perhaps funniest and worst rudeness is reserved for us, his delightful and ever-determined parents. I used to have this cat that would turn around and meow every time we’d sing “We Are the Champions” to her. That cat hated our singing and would meow her vulgar cat-food meow right in our face, ears thrown back in disgust. BC reminds me of that cat. Today, Husband was singing something- a Stevie Wonder song, maybe? And BC yelled “No Dada! Stop. STOP!! Stop, Dada. Stop!!” Even after poor Husband went silent, BC kept yelling “Stop! Stop, Dada! Stop! STAAAHHHHP!” Husband really gets the brunt of the emotional rudeness while I get the physical.

BC has also been the victim of rude children. He was told by an uptight 6 year old that he couldn’t sit on a certain carpet circle during story time at the library. Then that same 6 year old kept ratting him out to her mom, who was trying to read the story. “He’s not paying attention! He’s too loud! He’s not supposed to be on the rocking horse.” I know this child’s probably in a “rules are the most important thing ever” phase, but geez kid. Cut my boy some slack.

At our children’s museum, BC was playing with magnetic pipes an a child broke in front of BC and yelled “You RUINED it!!!!” because BC was I dunno, rolling balls down a chute and they went on the floor or something horrible like that. I felt like that was an overreaction. I did the whole “we’ve got to share” thing, but this kid was upset and refused to let BC play. It really pissed me off. I know this kid is a child, but he was a very rude child and I was over-caffeinated and under-sleeped. I thought, “Well, if I swoop in, BC won’t know how to handle challenging situations, so I should see how he does.” Then my next thought was, “Fu@k it, this kids’ a jerk. Let’s go.” And I took his hand and said, “Let’s go to the play kitchen.” We made some fake sushi and forgot all about that fartface. I’m sure the shoe will be on the other foot soon. In a few years, my child will be the fartface, and I accept that.

But am I a bad mom because my 2.5 year old throws everything in sight and then refuses to pick it up? I mean, I do feel kind of bad that I don’t have 100% (or let’s be real, even 50%) control over my toddler all the time. But alas! He is not some well-trained spaniel. We’re actually right on track developmentally, says the interwebs. I just looked up what the deal is with toddlers hitting and throwing everything and the gist is that we have to wait it out.  So I’ll be patient. Oh so patient. So, so patient. And maybe I’ll see about helmets and shields for me and the cats. And some emotional armor for Dad.

By the way, this is my 20th post! Thank you, friends for reading this. I’m so happy!