Unfortunately, the new trend in the house is defiance and just plain preschooler grump. I'm sure that our runny noses and constant coughing from the ever-changing weather have played a part in escalating the grumpies, but Daven has just been a little turd this week.
I posted the other day about how he tried to dump his oatmeal in the bathroom sink while I was in the shower. Yesterday, he got mad at ME because Adam left the house to run an errand and because Daddy didn't give him "one more hug", Daven bit me on the arm. What the heck, kid? The number of timeouts are just exhausting.
Today, between hacking up allergy junk in my throat and trying not to take pain pills for the pain in my side, I'm trying to clean house. Adam's band is coming over to practice, a couple people from a music magazine up north are coming to the house to interview them, and late tonight we will have overnight guests.
So what does Daven do?
He held up his plate that had his cinnamon toast on it and blew all the extra cinnamon sugar all over the couch, the floor, and himself. Why, Daven?
It's such a small thing that means nothing within the larger picture. I just wish I knew why he decided that he needed to do this. Don't worry though, Panic Manor. I'll make sure that he vacuums the couch before one of you crashes on it tonight.
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