School -- Lil' e

I've officially begun my endless years of school. At the ripe age of 2 years and 9 months, my mother has thrown me to the wolves and made me go to school. Would you expect anything less?

Potty training has been an issue with us because in order to go to school play in the sandbox or play with the Stop signs (for the bikes), I had to become potty trained since no one can wear pull-ups there. I've NOT been happy about it. I love pull-ups. I never have to stop what I'm doing in order to go to the bathroom. Who wants to stop building the world's largest buildings to take care of that kind of business? Not me! It ruins my creativity when I have to stop. When I return, I don't know what I was doing and I have to think about it so much that usually I give up and just clean the whole thing up.

It happened today. I was building with my lil' Legos. My mom MADE me stop and go to the bathroom AND take off my night pull-up. (She lets me wear one at night, thank goodness!) This was not pleasing to me but she threatened me as she always does and made me do it. THEN, when I went to the potty I asked for privacy. Who should have to ask? She should know better. Well, I could see her shadow just around the corner. So I taught her a lesson, I threw my pull-up at her, which I had worn during the night and told her "go way." That'll teach her!

Lately, I've really been enjoying food. Food can be so many things. Take a few bites of toast and bam, you have a boat. Take a few more bites and you get a ga-ga. (otherwise known as heli-opter) The other day, I made a digger with my mouth. My spaghetti would do in first, I'd chew, then I'd use my tongue to push it back out. It went all the way to the floor, in a pile. This was amazing. It was just like a digger, scooping things up and then dumping them out. You can imagine my mother's response -- utter amazement at my brilliant mind. Please! Good mother's respond that way. Conversely, my mom didn't appreciate my creativity. She gave me a time out. She was so mean, she didn't let me be a digger again AND she made me eat my spaghetti. Something about having just mopped the floor...this is child cruelty!

Also annoying is the whole toast issue. I LOVE toast with butter. But my mom puts the butter on the toast and it MELTS. I can't see it again. I don't want the butter to melt. So I cry. And she lets me. I flop on the seat and she still doesn't care. I screamed, "I don't want the butter to melt!" and she didn't fix it. I want Mimi or Grammy back. THEY understand me. They would have made the butter not melt; I know it.

Later,

Lil' e