So, I know you think I've dropped off the face of the earth, but I've been experiencing something a bit more terrible. I've been moving. With a toddler. And no help wrangling but from my mother. Now, my mother is descended from a branch of Super Woman's line, but we are no match for those two itty bitty little hands and two quick as lightning feet.
Three weeks into it, I finally have everything out of the old house (the garage as the only exception) and all of the boxes stacked into my new garage. Slowly but surely, I am unpacking each box one by one. "Great," you say? Me, too! Except the Toddler Terrorist comes behind me and wrecks it all. The Tupperware closet that took me 2 hours to arrange? Destroyed in 30 seconds flat. The kitchen cabinets that took me 2 days to organize? Upended in 10 minutes.
Seriously, someone should make a movie out of it. I can see the tag line now: "If The Blob scared you and War of the Worlds put terror deep in your soul, then you have to watch... The Toddler Terrorist!" He's fast as quicksilver and just as slippery; he'll distract you with his angelic face and devilish ways; don't turn your back, or you'll regret it! Scary stuff, huh?
Luckily, I love that kid beyond distraction and his dad will take him for a couple of days soon. I'll make up the setbacks in no time. After a solid night's sleep!
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