Things My Toddler Thinks

Mom sure gets lonely in the bathroom. I can fix that.

Make-up is meant to be enjoyed. By eating.

A wall really isn’t complete without a Crayola mural or spaghetti handprint.

The church nursery is run by monsters who want to eat my face as soon as my mom walks away and I have no choice but to try and communicate that reality in whatever way I can.

All food tastes better when eaten with your hands. Off of the floor.

Dogs are walking napkins.

Screaming is the only way anyone can hear you.

The best part of a bath is the part where you dump as much water as possible onto the floor.

It’s really hard for adults to brush their teeth without me putting my head in the sink.

The best toy is whatever toy my brother is currently holding.

Sometimes in the middle of the night I worry that Mom is sleeping, so I randomly cry for 30 seconds and then go back to sleep. That ought to fix it.

Chairs were made for me to stand on.

Snuggling is for babies. And I am not a baby. Unless Mom is holding another baby, in which case I am THE ONLY BABY.

Light switches are just toys placed a little out of reach.

Mom doesn’t know how to cook unless I get all the pots and pans out for her to choose from.

Dinner is disgusting. However, my own boogers and dirt from the backyard are delicious and I will not stop eating them.

The carseat is a torture device that surely has been banned by the Geneva Convention, but nobody has told my mom yet.

The telephone has interesting friends inside it. I call them when you aren’t looking.

I don’t want to use the potty unless I am fully dressed and about to be buckled in my carseat.

My desire to be held by a relative is inversely proportional to how much they like me.

I have many amazing skills. None of which I will perform on demand for Grandma.

I could listen to books all day. Unless we go to Library Story Time. Then I only want to run in circles and cry because another kid looked at me.

I will wait until a quiet moment when you have friends over to loudly declare that I have “POOPIE”.

I am perfectly capable of walking, unless your hands are full.

I would love for you to carry me, unless we are walking in a potentially dangerous situation (i.e. a parking lot, where I would really like to run free).

I invented a really fun game:  Hide that thing. When someone asks me if I hid that thing, I nod, then lead them to random areas of the house where they frantically search. But I’m the only one who knows I have no idea where I hid that thing. Endless hours of entertainment.

Restaurants are the best places for screaming, running in circles, and throwing food. Although church and the library are good places, too.

I can’t put on any clothes by myself, but I am really good at taking them all off. At inappropriate times.

If you ever manage to get your hands on a choking hazard, the best thing to do is wait until somebody notices and then run through the house with it clenched in your fist.

The only time to play quietly is when your mom is looking for you.

The pediatrician’s office is a good place to yell all the names of candy and tv shows you can think of.

My Mom secretly hopes I’ll have a major dilemma while she’s on the phone so she can quit talking to friends and get back to parenting. I do what I can to help.

I am totally potty-trained. Unless we are in public and Mom forgot a change of clothes.

The only stuffed animal that can comfort me is the one you can’t find right now.

 

What would you add? What does your toddler think?