Crappy Baby is just getting over a cold. You know that stage when they are technically better but they are whiny and…awful? That.
Three-year-olds are horrible human beings. (I mean, you know, sometimes. Other times they are cute and hilarious. Otherwise we’d all stop feeding them.)
He approaches me and asks me a question. An innocent (so I think) question:
He asks if this loopy circular thing looks like a pirate sword. Which it doesn’t. Like, at all.
Nope, nothing about a circle screams ‘pirate sword’ to me.
He is joking anyway, right?
He asks me again.
Despite his annoyance and obvious frustration, I answer the same way.
I’m not going to lie. It doesn’t look like a freakin’ pirate sword.
He is then possessed by a demon. He yells:
So I try ‘yes’ instead.
I mean, maybe it does look like a pirate sword to him.
He is on the verge of freaking out. Shit is about to get real. Can I dodge this? Have I diffused this tantrum with a tiny white lie?
Is ‘yes’ the right answer?
And he throws it at hard as he can. At my face.
Well, that did hurt.
So that is sorta like a pirate sword. I guess he was right.
Yeah, I know. You might think I should have stood my ground. Believe me when I say it wouldn’t have mattered. That circle “sword” was destined for somebody’s face either way. Better mine than his brother’s.
He’s much nicer today. He only threw a stuffed toy at me. He must be feeling better.
No really, he’s adorable! But he also totally sucks.