Outnumbered Two to One

I’m not proud to admit it. Yet the blogosphere allows for a certain measure of anonymity I can appreciate. So I’ll confess.

I’m being held hostage by a one-and-a-half-year-old.

In my defense, the boy is a master manipulator. He’s been under the weather lately and it seems the prolonged coddling has given him the impression he has the upper hand. Okay, maybe it’s more than an impression, based on today’s events he may have cemented his standing as house dictator.

It started this morning when I had to take my daughter to swim class. I’d planned to leave him behind with his biggest sis, attempting to slip away with little fanfare. But as soon as I put on shoes, he knew something was amiss. So, to ensure he didn’t get left behind, he grabbed my car keys and proceeded to shadow me as I made my way through the house. The implicit threat of a full-blown-rupture-your-eardrum tantrum, loomed dangerously over my head. My teen is responsible but leaving her with an inconsolable baby was out of the question.

That set the tone for the rest of the day.

He brought me his pajamas. I thought he wanted to go to bed, so I took off his play clothes and tried to dress him in his sleep clothes. As soon as his pants were off, he took off running. It seemed wearing a diaper was all the rage, until he tried to peel that off too.

I didn’t give in to his every whim, but it did feel like I was playing the role of personal baby taxi. With two perfectly functioning legs, he spent most of the day on my hip like a pink hairless chimp, searching my hair for ticks and pointing me in the direction he wanted to go.

With a face like this though…I’m helpless.

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