Charlotte was a little peach last night.  She was pretty good for the most part, but there were lots of tantrums thrown in with the good moments, because she is a toddler and they lose their cool in the blink of an eye.  Here are just a few reasons for the hell fire screaming that occurred last night in our household.

  • I tried to give her a quesadilla.  She loves bread and she loves cheese so I thought it would be a home run.  HELL TO THE NO.  She threw it at me and screamed “mo ba!” Because we live on milk and milk alone.
  • She finally got hungry enough to eat some melon and I presented her with watermelon (pink), honeydew (gween), and cantaloupe (owange).  She wanted black.  If anyone can let me know what black melon is, I’d appreciate it.
  • She needed a diaper change.  She has now entered the phase when she despises when she pees and has a dirty diaper but hates putting a new one on.  One would think this is a sign of readiness for potty training, but she won’t even attempt to sit on a toilet, so I’m at a loss.  Anyway, I tried to put a new diaper on her for over 20 minutes and every time she saw it in my hands she went absolutely insane.  Like actual demon possession insane.  She threw everything off the couch in a fit of rage and just ran around half naked, screaming and thrashing and rolling around.  Naked ass all over my couch and rug.  Trying to climb up my body naked.  I can’t.  20 minutes of this people.  20. Minutes.
  • She wanted black melon again.  I had no black melon.  SCREAMING BEGAN ANEW.
  • The 15th story I read her for the 9 millionth time was ending and it was time for bed.  She screams every. single. night.  It never fails.  I don’t know what else to do because we have the same bedtime routine every night, but still the child screams and screams and screams and only stops when I’m ready to run out the front door and lay in the street.  I will never understand this.

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