The best of times, the worst of times

Remember the rhyme, “there was a little girl who had a little curl, right in the middle of her forehead. When she was good she was very good, and when she was bad she was horrid”? Well, it turns out this is about Silas.

Yesterday the first 45 minutes of my day went like this:

Silas greeted me with a series of “NO! NO! NO! – GO OUT!” and proceeded to throw sippy cups, balls, books and whatever else he could grab across the room, run over to my bag sitting on the chair, gnash his teeth and bite it repeatedly (better the bag than my leg, which was 2 days ago and did NOT happen repeatedly…). Once downstairs he pushed over the metal trashcan with a clatter and ran out of the kitchen despite my demands to “come back here right now!” Once I reigned him in and got him to the table, he scooped up handfuls of scrambled eggs and grits and rubbed them on the table, refusing to eat. Then, so as not to declare peace too quickly, he yelled “I NOT GO POTTY!” and peed in his pants and on the rug. Twice.

That was all before 8:15 AM. The entire day wasn’t like this, but I should add that it escalated to an afternoon tantrum during which he stood on the stairs screaming and banging his head against the wall over and over.

This morning, standing in my milk-soaked bra, trying to corral Silas into his room to get dressed, Eden peed all over me. The low point, though, came later in the morning as I drove south to Mandy’s house, when all my pride flew out the window as I drank iced tea out of a bright pink sippy cup. (A non-spill sippy cup was the only way I could get a beverage down to the garage while holding bags, Eden and Silas’s hand). As I tried to sneak a sip, I heard Silas peering at me from the back seat say, “What you DOING, mama?” A fair question.