The Reign of TERROR

I am dedicating this post to my lovely two year old daughter, whom my Mother says 'is one of those two year olds that give all the other two year olds the bad reputation.' It is quite possible that the phrase Terrible Two's originated from some poor parent's experience with a child similar to Aria.

I thought that Aubrielle was a 'spunky' child - and she is. However, I think that Aria got in line for spunk twice. I don't know where she came from.

Aria is, quite literally, a mess. Every time she eats I have to clean the table, her chair, either chair next to her chair, the blinds, the floor, and I keep a tub of wipes near the table, pretty much just for her. Aria can create a major disaster armed with only one granola bar.

She has devoured countless books, apparently in a quest for knowledge, scaled high cabinets that other two year olds would have trembled at the very bottom of, preformed numerous 'science experiments' (such as, but certainly not limited to - what will happen if you microwave a bottle of Tylenol while your mother is changing you brother's diaper?), created her own play land with just one packet of hot chocolate, flushed several things down the toilet, and has jammed things in the drain in the sink that remain jammed even as I write this. I have had to cook an entire chest freezer full of meat in one day because during her crawling days she found the plug, and ever so stealthily pulled it out.

The fish tank has experienced numerous tornadoes, the waves were high, rocks were flying, plants were uprooted, and we have suffered casualties, one of which has been deceased for quite some time now, but I apparently failed to remove the rotting carcass from the tank quickly enough, and so Aria decided to take care of it. I still can not find the dead fish.

"Mommy, my fish is broken!" - actual quote from Aria

Nothing in the house is safe. Heaven help us, because lately she has been fascinated with the stove, and figured out that if you turn those black knobs, you get blue flames! So, run for the hills, hide under your mattresses, feign rare and incurable illness if I beg you to baby sit. Or else this could be your little dolly....................

There is hope. Aria shows some maternal instinct. (Although, I am already praying for her possible future children.)

This doll apparently had a bad case of diaper rash. Aria administered care in a thorough fashion.

Prayer would be appreciated. And if we come to church looking like war camp refugees - well, you know why.