A Day in My Life, by Little Man

Hello there. Since my mother is so exhausted by having all three of us home all day every day, even though it's only the third day of summer, I thought I would take the reigns today and tell you what a day in my life is really like, instead of having you read more slander from this redheaded giant.

Generally, I start the day off by waking up and pissing myself. My mother is continually perplexed at how I wake up soaking wet and smelling like a Port-A-John when my sisters managed to keep all of their urine in their diapers through their infant days. Well, good for them, but they were working with an entirely different set of equipment and even Mom's feeble attempts at pointing my junk south when she puts on my diaper each night do not prevent the inevitable overflow of wizz that creeps up the front of my torso each morning, making it impossible for me to be removed from my baby jail (read: crib) at anything closer than an arm's length without soaking my liberator's front with pee.

After I am freed, I am whisked to this raised platform, where I drink my morning cup of milk, am stripped of my wet clothes and, while my mother would like me to tell you she puts me straight in the tub, she really only wipes down my front with baby wipes, making me whine, because, damn woman!, they're cold, after which she dresses me for the day. Of course, my shoes are put on immediately, since I am obsessed with footwear and if I am not shod, I will find whatever pair is by the door, slide my feet into them and clomp around the house before I trip and knock my head against something. I especially enjoy Daddy's shoes. They smell like my wet pajamas do in the morning. I wonder why? And what is this "wear them on public transportation" Mommy is always screaming about as she rips his shoes off my feet?

After my footwear situation is handled, I make my way to the living room and find Da Gas (read:The Girls). I need to hug them both before I begin the important task of emptying the toy box of its contents. Once that is successfully completed, I usually visit Mommy in the shower since Daddy is very considerate of my need for bathroom access and never shuts the door, so I can pull back the shower curtain to say hello to my mother. This is usually followed by her screaming some word I do not know, but Daddy responds to, and he comes to get me. Foiled again!

Daddy departs after Mommy gets dressed and at this point I stand at the living room window crying and hoping my pathetic cries of "Da!" will bring him back because the redhead does not wrestle and there is a marked decrease in the bowls of Goldfish I am permitted to eat before breakfast when he is gone. Speaking of food, my mother plops me in my chair after I give up on my father coming back and feeding me inappropriate snacks and it's time to eat. Most days, I start with a banana, which I recently had been boycotting because, little tiny pieces? Come on, lady, I'm almost two, peel the thing and fork it over. I will then break said fruit in half and shove one whole piece in my mouth at which point Mommy comes rushing over to pry most of it out. Calm down, woman! I could've managed just fine. It was a just little tough to breathe. The rest of breakfast passes uneventfully, and I signal the end of my meal by throwing the remaining contents of my tray to the yellow, hairy one who sits under my chair. Rah-yee, I believe he is called.

On most days, we go somewhere. I do not enjoy places with big parking lots since that usually means I will be strapped into the prison on wheels and the redhead will attempt, unsuccessfully, to bribe me with graham crackers - give my a cupcake and I'll think about sitting quietly. Parks are the best. Mommy and I play this really fun game where I try to run out of the play area and she chases me, pretending to be mad, yelling, "GET BACK HERE!" It cracks me up every time. You know what else is hilarious? The look on her face when I throw myself down the big slide head first. The woman is a comedienne. Two other popular games are What Can I Put in My Mouth? and Pull Stuff Out of the Park Garbage Can.

After our morning out, we come home and we play a game I love called Wash Hands. The fun part is when I get to turn on the water full-blast and wave my hands around in it. The sucky part? When Mommy turns off the water and drags me screaming from the bathroom. Never fear though, my sisters share Daddy's considerate nature when it comes to bathroom door closing, or lack thereof, and I will have ample opportunity, usually when Mommy has run downstairs to put the wash in the dryer, to play again, this time, soaking myself and the entire bathroom. After we are all clean, it's time for lunch where I repeat the morning's performance, this time shoving in my mouth, in it's entirety, the whole string cheese I was begrudgingly given after rejecting more of those accursed tiny bits.

Apres luncheon, comes another stint in the slammer. Although this one is shorter and I wake up drier than in the morning. Sometimes I like to mix it up though and take a huge dump so I can roll around and make sure it gets all smooshed to the very edges of my diaper. Sometimes I save that for later though.*

Afternoons are usually spent at home. Until a few weeks back, my oldest sister and I would play this game in the afternoons called Be Really Loud in the Kitchen So My Sister Can't Do Her Homework or sometimes it was Refuse to be Distracted by Sesame Street and Stay Out of the Kitchen and Try and Grab Her Papers Off the Table. Mom makes more of those "pretend" angry faces. She's a comic genius, that one. But as of this week, there's been no homework, so we have been going out a lot. This afternoon, for example, we went to storytime at the local bookstore. That place is awesome since it has a train table, but I do not enjoy being dragged away from it every five minutes so my mother can check that my sisters, who are listening to the boring story, have not been abducted. Relax, stress-case. What I love the most though about our afternoon outings is it gives me a chance to interact with the rest of the world. Why Mommy freaked out when the nice Hasidic woman tried to sidle past me in the Early Readers aisle and I reached out my index finger, E.T.-style, to poke her in her behind which was, literally, inches from my face, I have no idea. Mom's muttering, "Of all people you had to poke in the ass..." did nothing to clarify it for me either.

Dinner, blah, blah, broccoli, various proteins, same scenario as the two previous meals, except at this one I get SUGAR! Cupcake, what cupcake? I never had a cupcake, lady. Do you see one? Sure you think you handed me one, forty-five seconds ago, but that was a figment of your sleep-deprived imagination. Ignore the delighted shrieks of my siblings as they cry out, "Look how fast he ate that!!!", and the telltale frosting all over my maw and make with the baked goods. Seriously.

Now that I am entirely covered in frosting, I need to be cleansed. Although I do not understand the need to remove my clothes before hurtling myself into the tub, I will allow my mother to do so. Once I am in the warm water, what is this stream of liquid shooting out of my body? My GOD, that is hilarious and I must touch it! Aaaah! Got some in my eye. No more? OK, well let me begin the first of twenty rounds of Stand Up and Plop Down on My Ass to Make a Splash. Mom, those angry faces never get old, I tell you. And dirty, tub water? Delicious! They should bottle this stuff. Or maybe I'll just continue to thrust my face into it and come up sputtering and laughing.

Mommy finally wrestles me out of the tub and it's time for pj's. Of course, we must also brush my teeth, which I will make as difficult as possible by clamping my jaws shut once said toothbrush enters my mouth and then bite my mother's finger when she tries to pry my mouth open. In a burst of bedtime energy, I will also kick my legs vigorously, in order to make even more difficult the squeezing of my body into the second skin called my pajamas. I know the tags say "Ensure snug fit for fire safety", but I can't feel my toes.

After books, kisses and hugs, it's back to my cell and it's lights out. Really, it's been a good day. I did some playing, I did some eating, I went a few cool places. Life ain't too bad. And that one with the red hair? Well, she's pretty fun. She's my whole world and I hope she knows that and I am thankful for everything she does for me all day. Even if this whole post is a figment of her imagination and it is really quite pathetic she is putting words of gratitude into the mouth of her soon-to-be two year old son. I said she was fun, I never said she wasn't crazy.

*As I did today. I took a nice big crap at the train table during storytime. Mommy had to pretend she didn't smell it since the extra diapers and wipes were in the van and she didn't want to rip the girls away from the craft the storybook lady had started, but I heard her loud and clear when she bent over me, carefully pretending not to check what she knew was my very full, and very foul, diaper, so as to not alert the other moms as to the source of the vomitous stink, as she whispered, "Oh Jesus..." This ultimately resulted in my being put back in the stroller after storytime and dragged away from the train table - curses! - to the van. I then proceeded to thrash my legs violently to repay the red-haired demon for her cruelty and get poo all over myself and the van while my sister's shrieked with both disgust and glee.