Urgh

Iain has, in the last few weeks, fully embraced his Terrible Twos. He screams. He throws things. He demands, then refuses, then screams. He's become mischievous in ways that make us hesitate to leave him alone with anything that can be broken (Exhibit A: Charles and I have performed "book surgery" twice in the last 24 hours)

He also likes jokes. The "Idea" joke is still high-larious.* The new joke, though, is auditory. It goes like this:

"Phhbbt!" [Iain makes Bronx cheer noise]
"Hey! Hear that? What's that noise?!"
"Dude: it was you, dude."
Hardy har har. Indeed.

But mostly, it's fits. Fits and fits. Throw the sippy cup, scream for it to be recovered. Scream in protest at bath time, then scream when bath time is over because you want to stay in the bath. Resist diaper removal, then demand a "NEW DIAPER!" and freak out if it can't be strapped on within 10 seconds while you writhe like a maddened serpent.

Who wants to babysit?!?!?





*"I got idea!" "Oh, yeah? What's your idea?" "IDEA!" Hardy har har.