I just spent ten minutes in the bathroom with Charlie, trying to calm down his raging tantrum long enough for him to pee and then get to the bed he OBVIOUSLY so desperately needed.
Ten minutes of mustering all the calm I could in the face (the literal face) of a screaming, shrieking, crying, writhing toddler.
Know what he was (ostensibly) crying about? His shorts. His filthy shorts that he did not want to deposit in the basket to be washed.
I don't know either.
This is three years old. And I'm oh so happy that it and its freaky, shrieky behavior arrived a whole month early.
(Sarcasm. So very much sarcasm.)
3 comments:
As I recall, when Charlie's dad totally freaked over something, he had developed some sort of fear--so maybe Charlie was afraid that his shorts would not come out of the wash, or that they would disappear mysteriously. Or maybe he had a pet worm in a pocket. If I had to guess, it was fear that the shorts would not come back out of the laundry--
There is something about dirty (not too dirty!) clothes; they develop a degree of comfort and softness. Perhaps Charlie has learned that, or he was just determined to give you trouble tonight. Mary in MN
I hope things have improved for dear Charlie. The episode sounds gruesome for all concerned....
Post a Comment