Forget that last post.

If I decide to go back to work earlier than I'm expecting - which is when Sophie is two - it will be because I do not like my son.

Okay, that might be a little harsh. How about, I don't like the way my son acts 90% of the time now? Seriously, this kid is driving me crazy. He's a whiny little brat. SHUT UP ALREADY, you know? Of course, when he is quiet, that means he's doing something bad.

I must have been around a lot of two year olds, because I never liked children till I had my own. If either of us makes it till he's out of this stage, it's going to be a miracle. In the two hours that we've been awake today, he's dumped all of his toys out of his toy box in the living room, threw colored pencils around the bedroom, threw all of his toys out of the basket in the bedroom, poked me and him both in the leg with said colored pencils, threw his cereal over half of the table, then wouldn't eat what was left, and has not listened to ONE SINGLE THING I'VE SAID. Just now I looked up to see him trying to put his toy box over Sophie, who is in her swing.

Yesterday was even worse. Last night as I lay in bed, grateful that the demon was finally asleep, I laughed and laughed at my last post.

Two year old's suck.