I think the baby broke.

We went home to Victoria a month ago and it broke Parker. He'd never made strange in his life until then, and it was the beginning of a mommy-clinging stage. At first the snuggles were wonderful, as he actually fell asleep in my arms one day for the first time in months. Then it just got ridiculous. I couldn't leave his sight to refill his water during mealtimes or he'd start screaming bloody murder.

And now. Oh, now. Somehow my perfectly behaved child has become a screaming dictator that will not give either of his parents permission to use the bathroom alone, and they must both be present otherwise the screaming will take place. (In case you're wondering, we let him scream. Bathroom breaks do not need to become a full family affair.)

I realized yesterday that my beautiful baby is now a raging non-toddling toddler. full of sass and ideas about how the world should work. I also realized that suddenly we've gotten into that terrifying stage of parenthood where we need to teach our kiddo not to be a spoiled raging beast when things don't go exactly as planned. I'm not ready!

My house sounds like a baby torture chamber today because I've decided that, like the United States of America, I will not give into terrorists.Especially not terrorists that prefer snuggles with their father and scream when their mother cuddles them at the wrong moments. I will, however, give in to coffee and cookies for breakfast, and probably a bubble bath just because. Karl's working today, Parker cut four teeth in the last couple weeks and had an eye infection this week, he became a diva, and I'm getting a sore throat. I've also run out of ideas of shows to watch on Netflix and the next audiobook in the series I'm listening to is on hold at the library. Basically life is over and we're all going to die.

Just kidding, it's almost nap time. My son may be a raging dictator of a one year old, but at least he still naps. Thank you, Jesus.