Anybody Know a Cure for Toddler Mouth?

It was a long weekend. Actually, I take that back. It was a really long weekend. What should have been an opportunity to spend some valuable extra time with Alexis instead turned out to be a continuous test of just how patient Mr. Husband and I can be with her. She was suffering from a very severe case of Toddler Mouth all weekend, and it wasn't pretty. It was sort of like dealing with a toddler version of Paris Hilton, minus the sex tape and with an extra dose of I'll-Do-What-I-Want-Because-I-am-Invicible-itis.

She threw fits when we suggested that she eat something. Then she threw more fits when we suggested she not eat something. She yelled at us when we asked her to stop climbing on the table. She yelled at us when she fell off the table. Her head spun round like Linda Blair in The Exorcist when I asked her to pick up her toys. Her head spewed hatred when she couldn't find any of her toys because I took them away.

Conversations like this were the norm:

Me: Alexis, please stop hitting the dog.
Alexis: NO!
Me: ALEXIS, THAT'S ENOUGH.
Alexis: That's not nice. Say sorry.
Me: That's right. Stop hitting the dog and say sorry.
Alexis: (hitting dog harder) NO! YOU SAY SORRY!

I wish I could say it was just a few isolated incidents, but that's not the case. It was more like her fun moments were isolated. The Toddler Mouth was constant, and it was mean. I think the only cure for Toddler Mouth is to suture the toddler's mouth shut, but unfortunately I couldn't find a needle, heavy gauge wire, and a padlock anywhere. In fact, late Monday morning, after she yelled at me to "Go away" because I told her to stop breaking her crayons, I found myself just plain not liking her. I know I shouldn't admit that, but at that moment, she was not my friend. Which is interesting, because she followed up "Go away" by saying, "You not my friend."

Toddler Mouth sucks.

Perhaps the worst violation, however, came Saturday while we were grabbing bubble bath for her at Target. We always let her pick which kind she wants. She usually goes for Dora or Mr. Bubble, but her Toddler Mouth was MAJORLY acting up. As she pointed to the bottle she wanted, she uttered a word I had never heard her say before--one that I didn't even realize she knew.

She said, "Princess."

I can only hope that is the last time that vile word comes out of her mouth.

A Story in Pictures

Just One of Those Moments I May Never Understand

Mr. Husband has recently acquired the skill set necessary to tuck the Toddler in for the night, so I decided to throw myself a little freedom party by running to the grocery store for some very much so needed milk and veggies. (I'm wild and crazy like that.) As I zipped up and down the aisles, grabbing things left and right without a deranged Toddler nor very many deranged grown-ups to drag me down, I was thinking that I might have to make it a habit to do my grocery shopping late at night on the weekends. The local craptastic supermarket is WAY more tolerable when there's hardly anybody else there.

I changed my mind after what had to be the most confusing five minutes I've ever spent in a grocery store parking lot (considering I worked at a grocery store for a while in college, that sort of is saying something).

I'm one of those polite and not lazy people that put the cart away when they are done with it (we rock). As I was walking across the four spaces between the cart return and my car, some chick thought it would be fun to pull through the spaces in the middle of the lot and park three feet in front of me, directly between me and my car. So, I walked all the way around her car and then stopped to wait by my trunk. I don't know what I was thinking, maybe that the lady was planning to get out of her car and go in the store? Since her driver's side door was right next to my driver's side door, I guess I made the crazy assumption that we would have to take turns opening doors.

So I waited.

And I waited. I just knew that if I tried to get in my car, she would suddenly throw her door open and whack mine. She totally looked like the type that attacks stranger's cars.

Finally, she rolled down her window and asked, "Can I help you with something?"

I'm sure the look on my face was priceless at that very moment. Somehow, I managed to construct a sentence about how I was just waiting to get in my car.

"Oh, am I in your way?"

Ding! We have a winner! Of course, I didn't actually say that, I just displayed my second priceless expression of the night.

Slowly the woman fumbled with her keys, reached over to her glove compartment to fumble some more, and then finally made her way out of her car.

As she walked past me, I realized she had something in her hand. It was a little bitty can. She had it poised perfectly in her palm, with a finger on top, as if she was ready to spray something.

I can't swear to it, but I think the lady was carrying mace. You know, just in case I habitually stalk women late at night in a grocery store parking lot. I do indeed prefer women who don't know how to park, and that need five minutes to get out of their cars.