I knew the afternoon would be rough when I picked Charlie up from day care and noted that he only took a one-hour nap. He did fine at the long, hot wait in the drive-through line at the bank and a long trip to the grocery store (although that might have had more to do with the cheese danish I gave him preemptively). We got home and into the house without incident (no small feat with the eight or so bags of groceries) and then Mr. Hyde came out.
It took me thirty minutes to put the groceries away because I was interrupted twice by disciplinary problems that could not be ignored. For one, he rammed our dog, who was eating and minding his own business, with his Little Tykes push car and then laughed hysterically. I grabbed him, decided now was as good a time as any to give time out a whirl, and spent the next ten minutes repeatedly putting an increasingly goofy toddler into the corner (to think about what he'd done and forgotten about almost immediately most likely). Finally he was laying on the floor laughing and yelling in Charlie-ese. It was so hard not to laugh. Eventually I settled for an apology and his push car went into time out in the pantry for the rest of the day.
After that disaster I confined him to the high chair with some yogurt while I finished putting away the groceries. I had just put away the first refrigerated item when I heard more maniacal laughter and heard a big glob of yogurt land on the floor next to me. Firm hand holding, eye contact, stern voice, we do not throw food, more crazy laughing from Charlie, dinner is OVER, call A, relate story while locked in playroom with angry, hungry Charlie.
I hung up the phone and Dr. Jeckel was back. Oh was I happy to see him. We read some books together, we went out onto the porch to play and wait for Ryan. He brought me little stones and played with the flowers. Then he threw a handful of gravel from the garden onto the patio. "Charlie, if you throw rocks again we're going to go inside." I bet you can guess what happened.
So then we were back in the playroom having a perfectly nice time reading books when Charlie walked up and swatted Rossby on the snout out of nowhere. I had HAD it. Did the whole "We do NOT hit Rossby! Rossby is our FRIEND!" thing and unceremoniously put him in his crib where he was to stay until Ryan got home.
I went back downstairs, expecting Charlie to start crying at any minute, which I kind of wanted, you know? Because I wanted him to get that babies who hit dogs lose their freedom and access to their toys. When Ryan came home about twenty minutes later I filled him in and mentioned that Charlie hadn't made a peep. Ryan went up there to bring him downstairs and found him fast asleep, curled up with Phent.
Funny how in the heat of the moment you forget to look for the bigger problem. Like total exhaustion. Oops.