Don't Be That Guy, Zoe.

My daughter is a force to be reckoned with. She's like an act of God, really...with a little bulldozer, bullhorn and bull-head mixed in for good measure. She's two and a half now and I don't know how much longer I can hold out. The other day, I found her standing in a pile of shattered glass, barefoot. They took the pictures off the wall in the playroom while I was cleaning up the mess they'd made in their bedrooms. Then, and this is only a guess, someone stepped on them. I heard screams of protest so I hurried to the door. Then I saw her. She was blood stained and OBLIVIOUS. They were fighting over who got to stand in the glass.

I
AM
NOT
KIDDING.

Sometimes I look at her and think of that guy at parties who always drinks too much, screams obscenities and puts a part of his body through something hurty and pokey before the end of the evening.


Don't be that guy, Zoe. We're going to work on it together, sweetheart.

Note: Sam was not injured in the latest episode of destruction. Zoe received one small cut on her toe that required lots of shaking, crying mommy love. That's right, I cried. She almost scared me to death. I'm beginning to think the children might be the cause of my heart palpitations.