It all began with an attempted trip to the bathroom.
“Honey, please stay here and play with your toys while Daddy goes potty.”
“NO! I want to come in!”
“Can you give Daddy some space, buddy? Why don’t you just sit here and race your cars?”
“No! I want to come in with Daddy!!”
“Baby, you’re a big boy. You can play with your toys for a minute. It’s hard to potty with you staring at me.”
“No no no! I come in with Daddy!”
I give up the fight, and he follows me into the bathroom. And the next thing I know he’s trying to lift up the toilet seat. The one that I’m sitting on.
“Please stop that. You’re making this really difficult.”
“I want to play in the bathroom with Daddy.”
“Listen, dude. I love you, but I can’t poop with you messing around in here. If you don’t stop, I’m going to pick you up and carry you outside.”
“No! No stop it! I want to play in the bathroom!”
“I’m going to count to three…”
“No! Daddy no count to three!”
Commence toddler tantrum.
“Ok. That’s it, Dude. You’re outta here.”
I get off the toilet, scoop up the little animal, and deposit him next to his toys in the living room. Returning to the bathroom, I lock the door behind me with a sigh. And then it begins in earnest. He’s immediately crying so hard he can barely breathe, and it sounds like he’s going to gag himself. Even through the door, I can picture the snot and tears rolling down his face.
I pull up my pants, take a deep sigh, and head back into the living room trenches.
Just another morning at home with a two-year-old.