2013...not so impressive yet. My New Year's Day started off like so many others, with my 3 year old hissing at his brother (both of whom had crawled into bed, forcing my husband to steal one of their beds) for taking over the prime spot next to me. "I wanted to sweep next to you!" He practically spat out the words, and if I'd been paying more attention, his narrowed eyes might have alerted me to the impending danger. But I was half-asleep and so I just swatted him away, pointing out that he already had a turn "sweeping" next to me, and it was his brother's turn now. Silly, silly woman.
What happened next can't technically be described as domestic violence because I don't think you can call the cops on your own toddler, but it was horrifying nonetheless. With an angry squeal of, "I wanted to sweep next to Mommy!" he beamed his sippy cup straight into my cheekbone. For the record, ten ounces of plastic slammed into your cheek hurts a lot more than you'd think. THEN he started sobbing as if in shock at his own nastiness, and wandered around the house wailing at the top of his tiny lungs until I had to stop my own crying and give him a damn hug.
It was 6:45 am. Happy Fucking New Year.
I write ridiculous rants and silly stories, and way too many posts about award shows - because I am a sucker for the red carpet. Enjoy.
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