Barrett hates...

This week I've managed to cry four times. Four. Times. I'm not sure how I fare in an average mother's weekly or even monthly cry-ratio, but I can tell you that four different occasions for tears in one week is a lot for me. Or is it? Maybe this is the new norm with a child locked in a dead sprint towards the dreaded two-year mark. I have a hunch that Barrett's Reign of Terror this week is a not-so-subtle hint...instead of one of those cutesy "My Kid Loves..." blogs, I should just list out all the things that my dude absolutely, positively hates. Perhaps this is a small way to save you readers from experiencing the wrath of my spawn and maybe, just maybe we'll all cry a bit less next week.

Barrett hates...

-Target. I mentioned it briefly in my last post, but my words will never do justice to the atrocities I've experienced with Barrett inside the walls of that store. That beautiful, wonderful store where any woman can get lost for hours in shoes, purses, books, make-up, greeting cards, cookie samples, cute dresses, and the famous dollar section is where I find my happy place. I'm sure you're thinking by what I've just said that I'd understand why Barrett hates it and I'm sure you'd be right. I could spend the better part of a morning just browsing the aisles of Target. So my solution with a toddler in tow? Invest in some shopping carts shaped like cars, Target! Why are you holding out when all the other stores get what a precious commodity this is to mothers everywhere?!? I could be walking through a horror-house filled with decapitated Yo Gabba Gabba characters, but if Barrett were riding in a "car cart", it'd be smooth sailing. Instead, I'm stuck holding a 30-pound maniac in one arm, while pushing the cart with another. All the while I'm attempting to appear sweat and tear-free...and failing miserably. Barrett would rather throw a monster-fit in the baby clothes section and deal with the consequences at home if it gets him out of Target faster.

-NOT screaming.

-Giving me any clue as to what he's interested in eating from day to day. Turkey could be all the rage on Tuesday and I watch as he greedily shoves it into his fat little cheeks. Wednesday though? Forget it. Turkey was SO yesterday. He'll get that turkey off his plate with one dramatic sweep of his arm. Wednesday the hot item is raisins. How did I not see the connection?

-Letting me sleep in. Doesn't matter how much or little sleep he's had the night before. "Up and at 'em, Slave. It's 6am...get to work making me a bowl of dry cereal and find Team Umizoomi on TV stat. I have a busy agenda today".

-Having his diaper changed. Bull-riders and calf-ropers have NOTHING on the physical stamina it takes to wrangle my child and wipe his butt. Several times a day, the horn sounds, I chase Barrett around the house, leap on top of him and perform a one-handed diaper change while holding down my bucking toddler. I've gone just under 8 seconds several times and have yet to earn my belt buckle.

This would be the part where I tie my funny Barrett-stories into something a little deeper. I don't have anything like that for you today. Consider this your warning if you happen to find yourself caught in the cross fires of his toddler-rage. You know what he hates...so run. Because you can.