The Bad Days

Some days are harder than others.  Like today.  Today has really sucked.

It's not really Robin's fault.  He's 20 months old and can't explain why he's so upset, but he can beg for a bar, then throw it to the dog.  He can whine and pout and point emphatically at the apples.  He can say app and make the sign for apple, then take a single bite and sweep the rest of the slices off the plate with a swift gesture of disdain.

The day hasn't been bad for the dog.  She's getting a half ration for dinner.

It's like his emotions are connected to a light switch.  Flick, happy; flick, super tantrum; flick, giggling; flick, screaming at the gate to the kitchen.

He hasn't been sleeping super well at night.  He's had a bit of a cold.  He got an early morning dose of screen time yesterday because it was the easiest thing to do at 3:30am.  The Muppet's Christmas Carol is pretty harmless, if out of season.

How does one survive a whiny, crying kiddo with a potential for the super tantrum?  I have no idea.  I clean up the apple slices not pounced on by the dog.  I pick him and and rub his back, even though his main form of stress relief is yanking my glasses off my face and throwing them on the ground.  He doesn't want to be consoled.  He wants to be consoled.  He doesn't know what's wrong and he can't tell me.

So he gets a little quiet time in his crib.  Quiet should be in quotes.  And I turn to the internet.  It's probably teething.  It's probably gastric issues.  It's probably cancer.  The internet sucks for finding things out.

There are seven police cars one block up the street.  The Google has no info.  Twitter does.  Shots fire two blocks away.  No other info.  Great.  Maybe the fancy new gunfire microphone system heard Robin slamming his heel into the floor.  Great choice kiddo.

It's snowing again.  Harder than predicted for this time of day.  If Denver gets 5 more inches this weekend, it will officially be the snowiest February on record.  How can than be possible?  It was 70 degrees for most of the month.

It just went weirdly quiet upstairs.  Maybe he's napping.  Well, we have an appointment with a daycare in half an hour.  I'm traveling and designing two shows in three venues for the first few weeks of March. Finding temp child care is hard.  I've been working on it for months.

The quiet was a lie.  So it's time to head upstairs and see if there is anything I can do to console the consolable.

He is a good kid.  He's just having a rough day.  Some days are harder than others.  That's why we get paid the big bucks.

Oh the Mess You Can Make

Oh What a Mess You Can Make.

It’s six AM, you’re wide awake.

Time to start your day once more.

Well, that would be true,

If you hadn’t awoke up at four.

Your dada needs some coffee now,

Why don’t you sit here for a bit.

Yeah, that drawer was kinda full,

And those spoons definitely didn’t fit.

You’re right, the oatmeal tastes pretty good

With apple sauce mixed in with care.

I’m sure it will taste even better,

Once you’ve dumped it on your hair.

Let’s wash our hands using soap,

And slap the sink with a splash.

We can change that sodden shirt,

With an extra from our stash.

We’ve got the Legos back in the basket.

Sure, you can dump them back on the floor.

Your toys once fit in the toy chest,

‘Til Grandma brought you more.

Dinner is a fun affair,

With spaghetti sauce and noodles.

The red splotches on the wall

Go well with your crayon doodles.

It’s getting late, and time to bathe.

Let’s scrub your soft backside.

The sudsy water is a lot of fun

When you bail it over the side.

Bedtime now, and time to sleep.

For three books you stay awake.

But sleep now, and dream of tomorrow,

And of the many messes you can make.