He's so tired right now that he has dark circles under his eyes. I've been trying to get him to stay in bed and take a nap for the past hour. He didn't want his lunch, so he finally decided he'd rather go to bed, telling me that he'll save his lunch for later. He lays there for about 15 minutes. I finish surfing the net and go to fix my own lunch. As soon as I open the fridge he's in the kitchen. "What you making for your lunch? Ice cream?" he hopefully asks.
No, I tell him, I'm melting cheese on rice cakes. He's got to have one, so he sits at the table and eats it happily while I eat mine. Then he goes back to bed, only to be up again 10 minutes later telling me he's hungry. Then eat your lunch, I tell him. Oh no, that won't do. He won't even try it, even though he's been begging for it for two weeks - it's a little potato and ham toddler meal that I got for Sophie.
He wanders off and I tell him to go to bed, or come and eat his lunch. He comes back and tells me, "I need a shower! I neeeeeddd a shower!" When I realize what he's saying, I tell him that he doesn't need a shower. He says, "Yeah, I do - I dirrrrttttyyyy!!!" He wails, convinced that he's dripping filth onto the floor.
I sigh and tell him okay, a quick shower then it's off to bed for you. He showers, and I take him to dress him again in the clothes he'd put on less than an hour ago. He spilled a few drops of milk on his first outfit of the day, so that had to be immediately changed, of course.
No, he tells me, that shirt's not clean. "See, it has a booger on it!" he says, pointing to a shaded spot on the waving flag on the t-shirt. I convince him that there are no boogers on his shirt, and now, once again, he's laying in his bed.
Surely contemplating what his next step in driving me beserk will be.