You don't want to hear the following words from your 2 1/2-year-old when he's alone in the living room:

"That's okay, Daddy! It was an akkident!"

All's well. There was just a spill or something. But the words conjured up many images of many "akkidents".


I can't find it, but once upon a time, I wrote a letter to a snot-nosed freaky unmannered child. It went something like this:

Dear Snot-nosed Freaky Unmannered Child,
I realize that your parents never taught you to be nice or friendly, so it's not your fault, but honestly, it's not Signa's fault either and so I wish I could throw rocks at you. Or at least kick you. In your tiny freaky bitchy shins. Hard. But I am nearly 40 and you are 5, so I'm sure it'd be illegal. Instead I did nothing and then just will hate you forever for saying, "Do we even know you?" to my 3-year-old when she so nicely walked up and introduced herself to you.
Signa's Momma

On Friday, we had another such incident. Some snot-nosed, freaky, unmannered child was so rude to Signa that Signa just sat there smiling not even knowing it was mean. "Why do you smile so much? It seems like you don't even know how not to smile" were said in a mean way, not a cheerful way and I just had to jump in. I told her that Signa smiles because she is happy and doesn't stop because she's still happy, even though she has to sit next to kids who don't play well with others and don't know how to smile on such a beautiful day.

Luckily, Marc already had known this kid was an issue an had already commented to her how we had met her at another park before but (quote) "Yeah, you were a lot cooler then." I'd said, "Marc!" under my breath admonishing him for it, but then she was mean to Signa and I just wanted to throw sand in her bitchy "socialized" face. But Marc had seen it coming. I'm proud that my kids introduce themselves, jump in and play, and share. I'm not sad that they smile "too much". Isn't smiling a good thing?

Bitchy little 6-year-old, you ruined my freaking park day with my kids. When you grow up to be president of something, I'm so coming after you. You owe me a day at the park.
It's time to play Marc's favorite game! The Morning Game! Here's how you play... Take 2 children, ages 6 and 2 and decide what they are having for breakfast. Porridge, you say (Cream of Wheat, but they won't eat anything with the word, "wheat" so you always call it "porridge"--- like the bears). So here's the game.

Decide if you make one packet each or two. If you make two, they only eat one bite each and then are done and you waste a packet and a half each (so three packets). If you make one each, they will want more and have ants in their pants for the 1 minute and 30 seconds that it takes to quickly make the next packet and then they will decide that their Sitting Still quota has been all used up and don't want to eat.

I know what you are thinking- outsmart them and make three packets. Hold one in reserve and when they finish the first and start the tantrum- BAM! Split it between them. Yeah, good plan, but it doesn't work. They will either take the route of wasting all of it entirely OR they will not want to split it and the day will begin in tantrums. "MINE!" "NO, MINE!" "Will got more than I did." "Dister more Will!" Irritating.

The other fun game that sometimes, though, thankfully rarely comes after the Morning Game is the Bath Game. This doesn't need to be described entirely, but involves the following ingredients: William, a bathtub, lots of bleach and the crying words, "Oh no! I poop in the tub!!!" Not really in that order.