Two

I’ve been asked recently by various people why I don’t post much anymore.

Well for those who are interested I’ll let you know and I have to write this quickly so please forgive any run-on sentences, spelling or grammatical errors: see, I’m forced to write this behind the locked door of my bathroom. Waiting for me on the other side of that door is the personification of chaos, or as I usually refer to him “the baby”, who, as of January, has turned two, and has taken the concept of the terrible twos and just ran with it. He is currently repeating the phrase “Daddy poop” at the door and I can’t tell if he’s asking me if I’m pooping or telling me that he has pooped, possibly in his training potty or on the floor.  All day, everyday, I follow this little ball of destruction around making sure he doesn’t hurt himself, others or the steadily decreasing amount of property my family has. The spare time I do have is spent cleaning up after him, trying to repair things he has broken or praying for a few minutes of peace… and I just heard a crash and someone is screaming.

So, yeah, that’s uh… Yeah…