The last few weeks with Drew have tried my patience.
This week alone he put black crayon all over our wainscoting (yes, Julie, that wainscoting). Then there was my Almay cream blush all over his bedroom carpet.
(Perhaps he was rebelling against the pink walls he now shares with his sister).
And finally, he completely covered Margot in lotion. This stinky cheap lotion my father-in-law brought back from Vegas (also: WTF?) that I didn't have the heart to toss.
See, I should have listened to my gut on this one.
"I made her a white baby!" he exclaimed.
But the laughable moments are hidden deep amongst a challenging duel of wits.
And I think he's winning.
I offer two choices and he picks something entirely different. I hear the word "No" from his mouth more times that I would like to count.
And that's in a five minute time span.
And his little potty mouth, particularly when he's pissed, sends him to the corner every hour on the hour.
The timer and I now have an intimate relationship.
We're at a complete loss as to what to do around here, since the only thing that actually occupies him is our full and utter attention or the television; he can play alone for about five minutes before calling for us, or he ends up fighting with his sisters before we can actually get anything done.
We're trying an earlier bed time and less sugar (which he really doesn't get much of to begin with).
And hoping that 3 is a little better than 2 and 10 months.