My toddler cried because …

Toddlers are strange creatures. One day they love carrots, the next they act like you just offered them smelly garbage for dinner. Sometimes they want to wear clothes, but other times it’s a wrestling match to get anything on their little bodies.

They are fickle. Unpredictable. Silly. Dictatorial. Adventurous. And, maybe beyond anything else, totally unreasonable. 

I’m sure I could fill a whole post just with stories from my house, but I thought it would be more fun to hear from some of my mom friends.

But I’ll start.

Today my toddler cried because ….

… she wanted to drink from my water bottle, even though hers was literally right next to her.

… I wouldn’t let her dunk her infant toothbrush in the toilet and then put it in her mouth.  – Gulay

… he was struggling to put his shoe on and I helped him. – Lina

… his five-year-old brother took the rolling pin he had been slamming into the ground. – Ashley

… he wanted a cheese stick and I gave it to him, but he wants fruit snacks. So I give him those but he wants yogurt. I give him the yogurt and now he’s crying because he ultimately wanted an orange. – Michelle

… he climbed into the baby’s high chair, buckled himself in … and now can’t get out. – Ann

… we wouldn’t let him jump off the dock into the bay in the middle of February.  – Eileen

… I prevented him from falling off the couch onto a tile floor. That resulted in a 20-minute tantrum and me getting head-butted in the face.  – Caitlin

… I wouldn’t let her stick her hand in a hot oven while I got the homemade cookies out. And then because I wouldn’t let her have a scorching hot cookie. – Ashley

… I wouldn’t let him climb our kitchen chairs and sit under the table. – Marina

… my foot was on his blanket. – Helaina

… he couldn’t fit his entire body through the tiny cat door. – Gabrielle

… my husband broke his cracker in half for him. – Melissa

… she threw her sippy cup down in the car and couldn’t reach it. – Danielle

… I wouldn’t let him poke the cat in the eye. – Lori

… I wouldn’t let him hold a butcher knife. – Anna

Do you have any stories to add? Leave them in the comments!

Cheryl Hazelton

Cheryl Hazelton

I’m actually a Canadian, swept off my feet and across the border by my dashing husband, to the little house he built near Massena. We have two rambunctious, blonde-headed gals who inherited at least a little of our stubbornness.
Cheryl Hazelton

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