Wildman-Albert-Einstein-Whiteboy-‘Fro.

Timothy woke up in a foul mood this morning. I mean real foul. He is not a morning toddler. If he had his way, he would go to bed at midnight and wake up at 9:30-10:00. {Which is exactly what we do on the weekends. Holler!} 
 

One of T’s teachers taught me a valuable lesson. One day she said to me, “Timothy does much better after nap time if he thinks he woke himself up, not you.”  And she was so correct! So every morning, I turn on all the lights, put on da mouse, {AKA- Mickey Mouse Clubhouse for all you non toddler speaking folk} stomp about for a few minutes until he opens his precious blue eyes.

 As soon as he rolls over, {he’s a tummy sleeper} I grab him up and strip him down. I think to myself every morning, “When will the day come when I can dress my child without it looking like he stepped in a fire ant bed?” Then I think, “That moment will be here before I know it, I need to treasure this!” Dress him as fast as I can, and give him half a cup of milk. Because for some reason, he can never, ever finish an entire glass. And nearly every day leaves the same amount in the bottom, even with only half a cup.  He a strange little toddler sometimes.

 Because he is totally distracted with da mouse and milk, I then attempt to do something with his wildman-Albert-Einstein-whiteboy-‘fro. Which if you have a toddler with super curly, medium thickness hair, you are familiar with my predicament with hairstyling.

T and I have similar hair structures, with his being slightly more thick, but just as curly as mine. And until I had him, I would look at pictures of myself from when I was little wondering why my mom let my hair get so unruly. But really, she had zero control over it.

After that, I get ready. I can from start to finish {make-up included} be ready in 11 minutes. Less time if I picked out my outfit the night before. I don’t wear powder and concealer only under my genetically enhanced dark circles. After being told by the lady at the Chanel counter that I did not need powder for three years, my mom telling me I didn’t powder and me looking for ways to sleep an extra five minutes—I gave the powder up.

BTB is off today, so he was home during the foul mood. He is always so wonderful to help me get T ready when he is there. But this morning, that foul mood I mentioned earlier, tested BTB’s patience, big time! T didn’t want to put on his bathing suit, he didn’t want his hair brushed and certainly did not want to be sprayed with sunscreen.  It was a fun morning.

Then once we got daycare, he did not want to leave my car. Usually when we roll up, I say  “T, are you ready?” He normally responds with, “redddy” But today, he yelled back, “No!!” And then cried all the way down the hall!

All I wanted so badly to say to him, “T, first of all, it’s Friday. Everyone loves a Friday! Second, you get to play all day with your friends, lounge in the pool and eat your most favorite food, pizza for lunch. You are going to be just fine, and this is not something to cry over!”

He will learn soon enough--Fridays are great. It means the next day you can sleep as late as you want to and watch da mouse for as long as your little heart desires.

Happy Friday, yall! And happy weekend!