Friday, July 13, 2012
Mom has been judging me a lot lately. She's all, "Peep, I don't want to hear your fussing, please talk to me using kind words and good manners," and I'm all, "When I use kind words, you say 'no.' When I fuss, you respond. You do the math."
I know it's hard to believe I am even capable of fussing. I like to think of it as requesting something with artistic emphasis.
And it's not that I'm trying to be difficult I'm a pretty agreeable toddler-peep.
But sometimes I need a new sheet of Elmo stickers as a matter of life and death. And sometimes I need to try the neighbor's bouncy house in the middle of a thunderstorm as a matter of life and death. And sometimes I need new fresh and clean b-gucks as a matter of life and death.
(What? You've never passed out on the front steps before? Even during college?)
Anyway, like I was saying. I'm not trying to be an unruly peep. I'm just trying to express myself. And self-expression comes in many forms, including epic tantrum.
The good news is that I have a solution I'm planning on proposing to mom at our next meeting (which, incidentally, will probably be tomorrow morning over milk and Mickey). If mom would just agree to give in to my every request the first time I ask, I'd never whine or fuss again.
If that's not reasonable and accommodating, I don't know what is.