In addition to the one I’m writing called “Life with the Frug”…(or maybe this could be one chapter??) I’m thinking of calling it:
“Living with a 130 lb. Toddler”
Mean Dad woke him up to go to his football game at the ungodly hour of 8am *rolls eyes*:
“NOT GOING!” *throws pillow*
“CAN’T FIND ANY CLOTHES!!! I DON’T HAVE ANY CLOTHES!” *falls to floor*
“NO, I WON’T EAT BREAKFAST! EVER!” *slams door*
Misc. shouts of:
“CAN’T MAKE ME!!!“
“I HATE THIS!!!!”
“WHAT THE HELL????”
“OH. MY. GGGGOOOOOOOOOOOOODDDDD!”
Along with a variety of falls, trips, and slams.
This was just a 10 minute period this morning. Saint Frug didn’t yell at him. He just calmly repeated the instructions to “get dressed” and “eat” until It complied. I am glad it was my morning to “sleep in” *rolls eyes* (b/c who the hell can sleep with all that racket?) because i would have definitely launched an F bomb into the fray. Or perhaps 2.