Toddler brains- fried.
The following post takes place in about a minute and a half.
Sweetheart, do you need more snack? Would you like a biscuit? Or raisins?
OOOh, if I put my foot here, and then fold myself in half while winking each eye simultaneously, everything looks really cool. And it’s the doggie! She runs so fast from me. Where’s my cookie? I think I’ll eat my fingernail. A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O.
“Momma! I’m upside down!”
*spin spin spin spin spin spin spin spin giggle spin spin spin spin spin fall down*
What’s this on the table? Whoa, I’m dizzy. I’m gonna throw it. That’s cool. Let’s throw it again. Throwing is the best. Thing . Ever. Where did the doggie go?
Where did my train go? What’s that on my foot? What’s that on the floor? I think I’ll eat it. Crunchy. Where’s my basketball? I need mommy to make a hoop with her arms. I NEED mommy to make a hoop with her arms. I NEED MOMMY TO MAKE A HOOP WITH HER ARMS. Oh a feather. I think I’ll blow it. Ha ha! Look at t hat. I can blow it far. Let’s blow it across the floor! Where did my pants go? Did I just take my pants off? Who took my pants? It’s the other doggie! I don’t need this silly shirt if I’m not even wearing pants. That sticker looks like a circle. Circle. Circle. My arm is stuck. I hate this shirt.
*spin spin spin spin spin spin giggle spin spin fall down*
Who needs arms? Arms are dumb. But feet are cool. I love my feet. Ack! Something’s in my eye! What’s in my eye? It’s itchy! Ack! It’s the scariest thing ever! It’s going to eat my eye! My eye! My eye! Hey, there are my pants.
Did you hear me, baby? Would you like a biscuit? Or raisins?
Why is the world such an awful place?
My son is a monkey on acid.
He has decided he no longer takes naps. He’s always been a champion sleeper, and quite frankly is just one of those kids that needs it.
He will be three in a few months, and I am well aware that at his age he should still be napping in the afternoon. He hasn’t napped in weeks, and his brain is starting to short circuit.
So is mine.
Send help ASAP.