When the mom is the one acting like a tantrum-y toddler, somebody has to step in and be the adult. Avery to the rescue. Such was the case yesterday after I attempted to hang up a sign in her freshly painted bedroom and ended up with a bent nail, paint scratched off the wall, nail holes in the wrong places and the sign still sitting on the ground. I was frustrated and acting like it. Avery asked me, "What on earth is the matter?" She told me that it wasn't ruined, that it was okay, that she loved me. "Accidents happen, Mom," she soothed.
I believed her because she sounded like she knew what she was talking about. However, later that day she said, "I'm just gonna poo in my diaper and it's gonna be an accident. Don't look." Um, no. That's not an accident, and you are not wearing a diaper! "To the potty!" as Avery likes to say. (**T.M.I. Warning**) About half made it in the pot after I caught the first half in a wet-wipe on it's way out. Oh, the joys of motherhood! All her clothes were still clean so I'm counting it as a victory.
"Accidents happen," eh? Well, so does you-know-what.
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