I just turned two. 2. T-W-O. Yes, I know you were there. But, much to my disappointment, you still don’t seem to get it. Please, allow me to clarify:
This year I shall rule with an iron fist of TERROR. The two’s are called the Terrible Two’s for reasons that go beyond alliteration. “Terrific” also starts with ‘t’ and yet it is rarely associated with the two’s. Know that every single day I am getting bigger, faster, and more whiney.
We are 10 days into my Reign of Terror and I think it’s high time I stop calling you by the sentimental title of mom. In fact, I can’t believe I’ve let it go on this long. Instead, when I choose to acknowledge you, I will use your first name. If I do not choose to acknowledge you, please, for the love of god, TAKE. THE. HINT. I am ignoring you as I do not wish to be tainted by your meager presence or pithy demands. Subtle hints that I do not wish to recognize your existence include slamming the door in your face, pushing, and the freakishly high-pitched screeching of “NoooooOOOOOOOOOOooooooooooooOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”
As Ruler of All Things I reserve the right to make absurd and profoundly disturbing demands. That’s right, I will only eat macaroni and cheese in a tent in the living room and I will wear your underwear on my head whenever I choose. And WOE IS TO SHE who does not immediately do my bidding. WOE IS TO SHE.
I also expect you, and all whom I rule, to become fluent in Whine. Please learn the various meanings for “EEEEEEEeeeeeeeeeeEEEEEEEEaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhh!” and “UUUUHHHHHHHeeeeeeeeAAAAAAAAAAAA!” immediately. It should go without saying that when I choose to converse and communicate in Whine I still expect to be adored and revered, as I would be at all other times. I am adorable. Always. Yes, even when I fling my poop across the room. ADORABLE.
I decide when I am finished eating, not you. And I may sit and play with my food for as long as I like. It addition, I expect to be offered up to 5 different meals at any one meal time. Also, I do not need to sit in my chair. I can stand in it, climb on it, lick it, and/or push it over at my discretion. You, of course, must ensure that I do not scathe myself in any way. If I do incur any kind of injury, no matter how small, know that you are a FAILURE and a SHAM of a parent.
Please take note and respond accordingly.
Your supreme and most adorable ruler,