I said to my toddler, “don’t stand on the table, bud.”
“Quiet, father,” he replied from atop the table. He then tossed a Jedi from the parapet.
I asked of my toddler, “where’d you get a weed whacker?”
Admittedly I was curious, but the weed whacker went back into the garage. He screamed. It was an odd day of mostly being outwitted by a very stubborn, very young human.
I managed one solid victory today.
The toddler loves puzzles despite my trying really hard to pass on my hatred of the “toy” if they can be called such. My in laws have a floor puzzle of the alphabet with Eric Carle cartoons on it. The toddler loves it. He grabs pieces and tries to put them together, asks me for help and runs about with bits not currently in my possession.
Whenever I had four or five letters combined for him, he ran to the row and stomped all over them. Then he grabbed pieces and ran off with them, cackling from behind a pacifier.
26 pieces and after an hour it was still not put together. He once let me put together A thru L, then ran to me hugged me and kicked the puzzle apart. Pretty sure he’s a sociopath, but he has an adorable giggle so he’ll get away with lots of stuff for a long time.
An hour into the puzzle, no progress. Then, when all hope seemed lost, footsteps sounded from the stairs. A grandparent was arriving! The toddler was distracted and my time had come. The puzzle was assembled and I laughed in a “take that, toddler!” manner that more meant I needed sleep than anything.
The toddler saw the puzzle, grunted something at his grandmother and turned toward me. He stepped closer and closer, eye contact unbroken at any time, and kicked the puzzle. It was a brief but glorious moment.