Excuse me if I'm in a bit of a shit mood right now, but I used up all the hot water for Elliot's bath and now I can't have a shower, and Elliot has spent the last 20 minutes having a fucking tantrum at my feet because I wouldn't help her pick up and put away the pieces from a small puzzle she was working on.
Her tantrums really get to me. I mean really, really. So much so that I feel like pushing her down or smacking her face or locking her out of the house. Instead, I usually move from room to room in a misguided attempt to temporarily rid myself of her. I say "misguided" because all she does is move from room to room with me. None of the doors have locks on them. Except the bathroom door. And I locked myself in. And she went back downstairs to sob alone. Only I felt guilty that she was crying. That she was alone and crying. And I knew she needed a wee. So I went back downstairs and gave her a hug and chaperoned her back upstairs so she could do a wee. Yes, you read that right. Chaperone. You see, Elliot is afraid to be in any room in the house by herself. If I'm in the kitchen, she's in the kitchen. If I'm in the lounge, she's in the lounge. If I'm upstairs in the toilet, she's upstairs in the toilet. If I move on to my bedroom, she either follows me there or commands loudly that I remain in the toilet until she is finished taking a dump.
Now that I'm more than a bit miffed, I'm going to rant on about a couple of things that really piss me off. One: When I invite someone to do something by text and never hear back from them. Two: When people speak to their children in that high, whiny, singsong voice that leads one to believe that either the child or the parent has some sort of major learning difficulty. You know the one. Oh, Timmy! You are such a good boy! Yes you are! Such a good boy! You need a poo poo? You do? You need a poo poo? Are you going to do a poo poo on the potty? On the potty? Yes, you are! You ARE going to do a poo poo on the potty. Not in your pants. NO! Doing poo poos in your pants is for babies! And you're a big boy, aren't you? Yes. Yes, you are. Such a big, big, big, big boy!!!!!!!
All done in this super loud, super high-pitched voice, all of the syllables dragged out to the nth degree while looking around the room to see who is witnessing their super-attentive parenting that will undoubtedly only garner them the award of most super fabulously annoying parent of the decade.
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