What is a two-year old boy?

I know it's a pointless pursuit......

But I just can't seem to figure it out.

Why do I love this obtrusive, unruly, emotionally unstable, physically out of control boy?

Is a two - year old boy a maniac with half a brain?
A mental patient?
A crawling, climbing animal who turns red when he screams?
A living example of how immediate gratification can ruin your day, your life?
A milk addict that doesn't seem to require food?
A hair pulling, stick throwing type of dog?
A rabid dog?
Oh, I know! a dog with 2 arms and two legs, instead of 4 legs.
A snot leaking, pooping and peeing diaper wearing miniature cave man?
A deaf dog who likes to grunt and watch Bob the Builder?
Does he hear me?
Yes, he ignores me.
Apparently, I am an object to ignore.
He gets lost in bushes, closets, hallways, and hills.
He climbs on dressers, tables, couches and T.V. stands.
He takes old food out of the garbage cans at the park and eats it. Mainly crusty week old cupcakes and stale corn chips crawling with ants.
He screams, kicks, and rolls violently on the floor when I say no.
He pulls Emma's hair.
He sits in the litter box and smiles.
He grabs the kitten with violent vigor and won't let her go.
He smiles at me when I put him in time out.
He puts on my shoes and tears my closet apart when I'm on the phone.
He unfolds my laundry and throws it all over the living room.
He calls, cries and screams for me at 3am.
He writes on my hardwoods with crayon.
He pulls his diaper off and pees on the floor,in the bath and sometimes the bed.(duct tape is an item on my grocery list)
He puts wash cloths and stuffed dolphins in the toilet for his personal entertainment.
He shits in the bathtub monthly.

After all this abuse........
I do believe I would stand in front of a car if it was going to hit him and walk through fire if he was going to get burned.
Is this irony or just plain insanity?
I put him to bed at night and look into his big brown eyes......
it's then that I forget he's a screaming, pooping, mad man boy who runs me ragged.

Blood, Tears, and Fake Nails. (By Stacie)

It was  a cold, foggy San Francisco summer day.
My best friend Colleen lived up the block from me and we spent all of our time together.
I would say, "I'm coming up." and she would say, "I'm coming down."
This particular Saturday, I went "up" to see her.
We were playing house, one of our staple Saturday games.
We were about eleven years old.
A portion of  her house  was under construction, and we were forbidden to play there.
It was in the back of the house on the top floor.
It smelled of lumber, saw dust, and cold eucalyptus air.
Naturally, that's where we played house.

I was the "mom" and she was the other "mom"
We were in separate rooms (under construction) talking on the phone.
We each wore Lee press on nails.
My nails were candy apple red and Colleen's were hot carnation pink.
I was wearing my brand new white Esprit outfit, that I had begged my mom for at Nordstrom.
White, cropped, cotton pants and a white button down top.
It was Esprit, that was the important part.
All so stylish, it was 1980  something.

Mid- sentence, chatting on my imaginary phone, I sat on what looked like a beautiful love seat.
I was  so engrossed in my "mom" character, I missed the fact that it was a big piece of  thick glass covering a hole in the floor.
Suddenly, I was mid air, floating, falling, screaming bloody murder.
Chards of glass surrounded my face and ripped through my skin like claws.
Within three seconds, I hit the floor like a boulder dropped from a cliff.

BOOM.
It felt like my tail bone had been hit with a fifty pound metal bat.

I immediately jumped to my feet.
Okay, I could walk.
My heart was racing, blood was dripping rapidly down my face, my back, my legs.
Adrenaline was rushing like a ferocious beast through my trembling body.

There were no thoughts.
Colleen ran down the stairs and saw me, she screamed.
There were no words exchanged.
I looked into her terrified green eyes and we had the same silent thought- PHONE.
Get to the fucking phone now.
We need to call my mom NOW.
Blood dripped on her beautiful hard wood floors with every step I took as I made my way to the phone that gripped the wall.
I grabbed the cream colored receiver and the cumbersome cord got stuck in the one part of my hair that wasn't stuck to my bloody face.
I tried to dial my mom- 239-8989.
I couldn't get the buttons to push and  the 2 kept slipping.
"Fucking Nails!!!" I screamed as I tried to rip the plastic albatrosses from my fingers.

My mom had told me they weren't good to wear in case of emergencies.
I heard her voice in my head.
I finally ripped one off and threw it across the kitchen.
239-8989.
Done.

I ran for the front door, Colleen followed closely behind me, crying quietly.
She sounded like a whistling tea kettle, then I heard the screech of brakes.
I don't even think a minute had passed, and there she was, my mom.
She pulled up frantically in the station wagon.
She had on her cut off daisy duke jean shorts and a red t-shirt with a rainbow on it and a little bit of bird shit on her shoulder.
She had reversed backwards up the hill, which she did often, not just in emergencies.
"GET IN THE FUCKING CAR !"
I stood there covered in blood.
 My "white " pants were now red pants, completely saturated with bright red, fresh blood.
My hair was glued to my face with blood and tiny beads of glass.

"Get in the car!" She yelled.
"What Happened!!!!!!!!!!!!!" She said horrified.
I was stunned.
I opened the door and laid across the back seat, all I could smell and taste was metal.
I got in the car, my mom was trying to be calm.
She didn't succeed.
It was obvious this was bad.

We flew off  at about 60 MPH down our residential street.
I sobbed and sobbed, trying to get the words out, telling her what happened.
We both knew stitches were imminent.

She told me it was going to be fine.
That was one of her go to phrases, "Not to worry Stacie, it is going to be fine."
"No it's not mom!" I insisted, sobbing.
There was no way she was right this time.

The right side of my face was pulsating, my back was sliced up and it felt like a thousand bees were stinging me.
It wasn't enough to be on the way to the ER with glass chards in my body and face.

She couldn't resist.
"God damn it Stacie! I told you not to wear those god damn fake nails!"