Wednesday. Tantrums start before breakfast.

Time to get your shoes on, L.

Runs away. I act stern. Happens again. Threats. Runs again. Only 8:45.

All morning: Nooo! and But but but but but—

Naptime. More fun to crap in the diaper. Fills his bed with trucks. Then blocks. Me: I do NOT want you to get out of bed again. Confiscate the toys (Hey, Mumma! You’re taking away all my stuff!).

3:00 p.m. In his bed. Footy jams. Pacifier. Shit-eating grin. Blocks all over the bed.

I’m building a house, Mumma. For Dada. And you. And me. And…I’m awake.

Hug.

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