A Desperate Plea

Dear Two and Three Quarters,

How are you feeling today? Tired? I can imagine, as you’ve now decided to get out of your bed twice each night to go potty, then sit on the toilet for 15 minutes laughing about “how the pee pee won’t come out.” Yeah, you know why it won’t come out? Because you don’t actually have to pee. You just wanted an excuse to get out of bed. I’m not Columbo or anything, but that’s not too hard to figure out.

As for the third time out of bed each night morning around 4 a.m., I’m not quite sure what you’re trying to pull. It’s bad enough that you stand two inches from my face, staring at me with crazy “Children of the Corn” eyes, willing me to wake up with your incredibly loud blinking and mouth breathing, but why, oh why do you insist on coming in to my bed? You know I’m too tired to refuse, especially when you snuggle in, informing me three hundred times how much you love me. And really, that part isn’t so bad. But the two hours of kicking and rolling and complaining and randomly getting out of the bed to check on the dog and begging for cartoons? Yes, Two and Three Quarters, I could live without all of that.

Your teachers at school have been informing me lately of your mischievous activities during the day, mostly involving large amounts of pouting and explicit use of the word “no.” They think you might be tired during the day, as it’s not really in your DNA to be a trouble maker. I agree (mostly). You know what might remedy this problem? SLEEP. DURING. THE. NIGHT. You know what won’t fix anything? Climbing out of your carseat while I’m trying to pull out of the school parking lot. All the other parents who stared dumbfounded as I tried to force to writhing body in to the seat are probably going to nominate me for Parent of the Year. Better yet, Parent of the Millennium. I’m that good.

And the lovely lady that stopped when she saw me on the side of the road, pulled over with you sobbing hysterically while sitting in time-out on the curb, she will probably nominate you for an Oscar, your performance was that good. Oh, Two and Three Quarters, you are one Hollywood starlet. I can’t wait for you to be the headlining story on E! News: “Young star admits mother put her in time out on curb, ruined life.”

Oh, and that lovely lady that pulled over on the side of the road? She just wanted to see if I was OK. As I stammered my response (um, she wouldn’t stay in her seat and I didn’t know what else to do and, um, please don’t call Child Protective Services), she just leaned out her car window and said, “Not her, honey, YOU.”

“Um, I’m OK, I think.”

“OK, just thought I’d check. I have three daughters…I understand.”

So, Two and Three Quarters, your Humiliation-of-Mother Quotient has been filled for this month. Let’s try to keep the tears to a minimum until April. And when I say tears, I mean mine.

Yours Truly,
Mommy

P.S. Two and Three Quarters, should you decide to ignore my pleas, I will be forced to ask the dog to eat you. You’ve been warned.