I’m new around here, but it sure seems like Mommy adds new rules every day. Don’t throw food on the floor. Hands aren’t for hitting. No marker on the walls. Don’t climb on the counters. No biking down the stairs. Keep your diaper on. Don’t flush jewelry down the toilet.
Don’t even get me started on paradoxical rule couplets like don’t talk to strangers and don’t cry when I hand you to a stranger in the church nursery. #smh
Honestly, it’s a lot to keep track of. Especially on top of all the rules I was just beginning to get the hang-of, such as sleep at night and chew food before swallowing. Apparently, rules are a multiplying breed.
The newest rule: No writing on Mommy’s blog.
I mean, I get it. I do. It’s her space. But, let’s be honest, people have enjoyed hearing from me and maybe that’s hard for her to admit. For now, I’ll do what I do with the rest of her rules. Say “oh-tay” and then do it anyway. I’m the third child. Her threats are empty.
It’s funny (ironic funny, not haha funny) how hard-nosed she is about her rules when she can’t seem to track with my rules. She appears caught off-guard each time she breaks one (which is often). But, my rules aren’t complex. Just the basics, intended to keep our family peaceful, orderly and safe. Goals we can all be agree on, right?
- I do not recall signing a model release for you to snap photos at will. Until my rights are reinstated, whenever the camera is pointed at me (even when you think you are being a photo-ninja), I simply will not smile, pose, perform nor continue whatever cutesy thing I was doing. By extension, I also refuse to perform on command for others. I’ll make a liar out of you if I have to. I won’t say my special words, dance to my favorite song (I’ll pretend I’ve never heard of it), make that adorable noise or do ‘that thing [I] did earlier.’ I know my rights.
- Taco Tuesday means I expect tacos. Don’t think for a minute I’m too young to understand the basic structure of a calendar. I know it’s Tuesday. Don’t pretend it’s Thursday. I know the difference. Don’t try to pass off non-tacos as tacos. Don’t tout promises of Fajita Friday or Meximelt Monday. If it’s Tuesday, I expect tacos. [I also reserve the right to not like tacos anymore, without prior notice.]
- Things high up but within view are my jurisdiction. There is no fear of heights where marshmallows, remotes or permanent markers are concerned. However, if you sit me on the counter to replace my shoes or brush my teeth, I will cling to you as though I am facing certain death. I decide when/where/how heights are ok, not you.
- If I am occupied, you are welcome to sit down. However, if you appear to be looking at something, thinking about something or doing something, your sitting privileges will be revoked. Immediately.
- If we are with friends, I need a 30, 15, 10, 5 and 2 minute warning before we leave. I still guarantee a fit at go-time, but this warning process gives you fair warning the tantrum is coming. It’s a chance to wrap up whatever mom-convos you are having. Once the 2 minute warning happens, you won’t be permitted to finish. I’ll put on a fireworks display like you’ve never seen and you’ll be lucky to ever hear from your mom-friend again.
- If I go to bed early, I’ll wake up early. If I go to bed late, I’ll wake up early. If I’m up for 15 minutes to 2 hours in the dark of night, I’ll wake up early. If I miss my nap, am sick or recovering, am getting teeth, or growth spurting, I will wake up early. This is also for your benefit. I know you do best with routine. Count on me to keep things consistent.
- When you see me asleep, you’ll magically forget any altercations from the day. It’s my gift to you. You’re welcome.
- If you try to serve me adult food (basically any food not in fried nugget form, with the exception of Taco Tuesday), we will have words. Words like “noooooooo” and “yucky.” I’ll flick your gourmet grub to the ground. However, if you shortcut to the part where you serve me corn dog nuggets the first time around, you can bet on my mooching from your plate as soon as you sit down. That Pad Thai looks delish. [And sorry I didn’t leave you any.]
- When I sense bedtime on the horizon, I’ll kick it into high gear on playing peacefully with siblings or even alone. Bask in the moment. Ignore the clock as it rolls 10, 20, 300 minutes past bedtime. I’m playing peacefully. There is no greater hope for you. [Once I’m tucked in bed, refer back to #6.]
- The Golden Rule: Silence is Golden. It’s another thoughtful gift from me to you. It comes with inherent risk, however. Silence comes with a 100% (no-money-back) guarantee that I am doing something dangerous, destructive or likely a combination of the two. Think of everything not within your current view (including me) and picture it dumped out, Sharpied, flooded, flushed, shattered, ingested, rearranged or dangling from a window. That’s the price of silence.
Though these rules will never change, if Mommy ever does master them and starts thinking she’s got me figured out, I’ll roll out a second round (so, stay tuned). I know Mommy depends on my unpredictability to entertain her Facebook friends. I’ve got her back. [Wow, It’s starting to feel like she owes me a Thank-You card…]
For now, I’ll work on following some of Mommy’s rules (with the exception of the “don’t write on Mommy’s blog” one.)
#bittyblogger signing off…