I am positive that's what everyone on the block is thinking after this evening.
The evening started to degenerate when Shorty woke up crabby. This usually means he's still tired & should sleep another hour. There was no convincing him of this today, though. He had pooped. The nap was done.
A cranky Shorty makes for a high-maintenance evening. He wants his brothers' toys. Not that he wants what is officially "theirs" over "his"; he just wants whatever happens to be in their hands at any particular moment.
And he's not good at using words yet.
So, he screams.
If I tell him to use words, he screams "MOMMYYY!" Not sure that's better.
The twins were in rare form tonight, too. Maybe because Daddy is out of town on business (it's very convenient to blame him). Thing 2 had his Bossy Pants on and Thing 1 was going by the alias Whiney McWhinerson.
Needless to say, they did not take kindly to toys being taken from them. Screaming. Arguing. Whining. Even (dare I say it) hitting *gasp, not my children* ALL. NIGHT. LONG.
It all came to a head when, after dinner, a strawberry somehow migrated from the kitchen table to the playroom floor where at least 1 -- possibly 3 -- sets of feet decided to grind it into the carpet. We moved the party to the family room so I could clean...
And the screaming fits started. Three of them. All at the same time.
"That's it. Bedtime." I announced, knowing that they were tired & an early bedtime would be beneficial.
Cue more screaming.
Shorty was somewhat agreeable to being changed and put down. Thing 1 screamed for a while & then, decided to try his hand at listening. He became very sweet, asked for my help getting changed. And when I praised his listening...he requested M&Ms as a reward. Sly.
Thing 2. Oh, he's a stubborn one. Always has been. This is the child who defied everything all the infant books said about "self soothing." It didn't matter how long I let him cry. It didn't matter how many days in a row I "enforced" this "soothing"...he was not to be soothed. I would find him red in the face, little fists clenched, screaming in between gasping breaths. So much for "soothing."
Anyway. He did NOT want to go to bed. He screamed. He cried. He fought me as he made me change him like a baby into his overnight PullUp. He then decided that the best way not to go to bed was to strip down.
So. He was naked on his bed. Screaming:
I DON'T WANT TO BE NAKED. I WANT MY PANTS AND UNDERPANTS. I DON'T WANT TO BE NAKED, MOMMY.
I really hope he can't be heard from the street.