Really Not Funny (at the Time)

The scene: Last week. 2:30am. The Burgh family and their many prisoners were all sleeping soundly in the Parental Unit's bed. Suddenly, a scream shattered the monotony of rolling thunder-like Bulldog snores. The Toddler shot straight up in the bed, screaming as if someone were plucking out her toenails with pliers.

Mother-type figure (while burying head under pillow): What's wrong, Alexis?

Alexis: WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!

Mother-type figure: Alexis, use your words. What. is. wrong.

Alexis (stammering): I wan . . . want Mick . . . key bed.

Mother-type figure (drowsily): What?

Alexis (still crying): I want Mickey bed.

The mother-type figure wondered to herself if an elephant has sat on the Toddler's legs, preventing her from walking the path to the precious Mickey-covered bed in her room--the same path she had traveled in reverse just an hour earlier. Perhaps someone installed One-Way Hallway signs? A stop sign? A brick wall?

Mother-type figure: Then go get in Mickey bed.

Alexis (sobbing): WAAAAAAAAAAAAH!

Mother-type figure: If you want your bed, go get in your bed.

Alexis (sobbing): WAAAAAAAAAH!

The mother-type figure slammed the warm, cozy blankets to the side, snatched the Toddler up into her arms, and stormed back into the kid's room. She sort of (but not really) gently laid the Toddler down into the aforementioned Mickey bed, and thrust the rat-faced blankets up over the Toddler's chest.

Alexis: Zzzzzzzzzzzz.

The mother-type figure: You have GOT to be kidding me.

Just about precisely 24 hours later, the mother-type figure learned that the Toddler was not, in fact, kidding as they replayed the entire scenario all over again. She was not amused.

Busted

Lots of Sighing Going On Around Here

I won't be winning any Mom of the Year Awards for saying it, but lately? I have not liked Alexis. I have loved her, cherished her, adored her, blah, blah, blah, but I have. not. liked. her. I'm sure I'll take some slack for writing it, but the fact of the matter is the whole purpose of this blog is to document things for her, and there is value in being able to tell her that I went through the same thing with her when she one day calls me to complain about one of her kids. She will have the same phase. I have no doubt.

The calendar says Alexis' third birthday is still a few weeks away, but her mouth, attitude, and general demeanor has been saying HELLO! I'M THREE! SCREW YOU! for a couple of weeks now. The yelling. The screaming. The fighting. The defiance. The attitude. I know she's just testing boundaries, but oh. my. hell. I want my sweet kid back. Y'know, the one that looks at me teary-eyed if I so much as raise my voice. The one that has such a crazy guilt complex that she will tattle on herself just for THINKING about doing something she shouldn't. The one who wants to gain everyone's approval so badly that she will do absolutely anything to make sure she gets it.

I liked her. I worried about her, but I liked her.

In the past week, Alexis has thrown more fits than in all the rest of her life piled up. I have a feeling she is trying to squeeze in a year's worth of misery into a short amount of time (she did that with Two--it was really only "Terrible" for a few weeks), so it's just a matter of standing firm and waiting it out.

It is a phase.

It is a phase.

If all else fails, four will be better.

If I still have hair left on top of my head by then.

Thank goodness she's cute.