My son, The Littlest Dude (not to be confused with Jeff Bridges in a bathrobe), is almost two.
|The Dude Abides|
He's adorable and adventurous and curious and determined and pretty much perfect in every single way. Like your kid, my kid is the most wonderul thing in the whole world and all other kids fall short of his high-set bar. Like your kid, he is the smartest, cutest, most amazing person the world has ever been lucky enough to have as an inhabitant. He. Is. Awesome.
Unlike your kid, though, (or maybe like your kid, i know I don't corner the market on this) my kid is what they call "spririted". What this means in a nutshell, is that he runs amok. Amok. Amok. Amok. He refuses to do lots of stuff or refuses to NOT do lots of stuff. He reallly, really, really, likes some stuff and really, really, really hates other, seemingly inocuous stuff.
My kid is hardcore.
If my kid were a metal band, he'd be Lamb of God.
Or, maybe something Norwegian.
He's a badass. He has no fear (except roosters) and he loves loves loves to play Surprise Trust Fall.
I'm not exaggerating. I know what you're thinking. "Come on, Kristi, he's two. Of course he's (insert toddler descriptive adverb)." And you're right, all toddlers are stubborn and opinionated, but take a typical toddler and imagine him at his most intense. Now imagine him at his most intense ALL THE TIME.
Parents, let me get an amen if you feel me.
I'm not trying to get you to say "Aw, poor you" or "get over yourself, Kristi, parenting is hard. No shit.", or anything like that. This is just an introduction. A primer. I'm setting the scene for future posts about The Littlest Dude. He has antics and I plan to write about them at every opportunity. Brace yourself, Internet, The Littlest Dude cometh.