The boys woke up in good moods. This always helps on a Monday. I corralled them into our bathroom, grabbed their clothes and started to help little T.Puzzle undo the snap and zipper of his pjs.
Soon he realizes he doesn’t have the dexterity to open the closure.
“I need help!” he recants.
I reach for the flap of fabric, pop it open and start to unzip him.
“No! I do it myself!”
T.Puzzle also got angry at me at breakfast. I attempted to pull apart his mini waffles, like I do every morning, and he couldn’t believe I would have the audacity to do so.
A three year old is a lot like a moody, teenage girl. How do I know this? I used to be one. Payback is, well, you know…
That is until he takes two of his mini waffles and fashions them into a toilet seat. I can honestly say, I have never done that. Not once in my former teenaged life or in my current situation.
At least I found it mildly humorous. Of course, I didn’t let little T.Puzzle know that. He would have somehow managed to use this information against me.