Have you ever woken up one day and just been convinced your child actually belongs to Satan?

Because I have. And it was this morning.

To sum up the last couple weeks in my world of parenting, I will say Abbott has been a dream (I never want him to grow up) and Matty has been channeling his inner wild child – which is putting it nicely. He turned two and was all of sudden speaking in full sentences. One week later he had the attitude of a teenager and was climbing and jumping off of everything he could find. Now, in the last two weeks Matty has been showing his true teenage colors. I could ask Matty anything and he would say no – until I ask a question he SHOULD say no to, then he always says YEAH. 

“Matty, do you want to play basketball?”

“No. No baketball.”

“Matty, do you want chicken for dinner?”


“Mac and cheese?”


“Grilled cheese?”

“No. No, gill geeze.”

“Matty, did you push your brother?”


“Matty, say sorry to Abbott.”


“Matty, do we push people?”


“Do we want to hurt people?”


“Matty, do we take toys from our friends?”


“Do you want Mama to be sad?”



I can’t tell if he’s evil or just really fucking smart and maybe funny?

I’ve been taking it in stride but since going to Nashville he’s been particularly “evil” to me. I’ve been hoping this isn’t some weird passive aggressive way to get revenge on me leaving them for three days but it’s definitely starting to feel like that might be the case. He’s like a toddler with the mentality of a 15 year old girl. Since I’ve been back, I’ve been on “put Matty to bed” duty twice and both nights he spent an entire two hours fighting sleep while literally screaming and crying for Dada. Unfortunately for me, Seth was gone both nights. OF COURSE. Last night, by the time Matty finally fell asleep, he had worked himself into an intense sweat, there was snot everywhere and he had managed to pour water all over me so everything was covered in some type of liquid. This morning, the toddler antics continued:

“Matty, please cover your mouth.”
“If you don’t cover your mouth, other people will get owies. Do you want Mama and Dada to get owies?”
“I wanna pway wif fiiiiire.”

And just like that, I was convinced I had spawned Satan’s child – well, he’s probably not Satan’s spawn but he’s definitely calculated with a twisted sense of humor. And I’m definitely paying a high toddler price for leaving town without him…or for leaving him in “Daddy Daycare” all weekend, I have yet to figure out which one.

I hope whoever said three was way worse than two is WAY wrong.