Why Toddlers Scare Me More Than Nuclear Weapons

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December 6, 2012 by Sarah Christine Bolton

My daughter is a beautiful blonde, blue-eyed two-and-a-half-year-old.

She is also an evil monster.

You may think I am being sarcastic.

I’m not.

In fact, I am, at times, afraid of her.

She is the kind of person who will take a crap on the floor, and then laugh defiantly, head back, eyes dark. It’s terrifying.

She also enjoys trying to make me go clinically insane. The torture process goes something like this:

“Mama, I want juice.”

“Ok, I’ll get you some juice.”

(Screaming) “I don’t want juice!”

“Ok, I’m putting it in the fridge then.”
“Mama, I want juice!”

“Ok, here is your juice.”

(Screaming) “I don’t want juice!”

(repeat above dialogue until I am curled up in the fetal position under the kitchen table whimpering softly).

She also enjoys trying to smother me with pillows, attempting to ride our ancient dogs like horses, and breaking my bank account by throwing organic food on the floor.

Nuclear bombs? Eh.

Toddler? Holy f-ing crap.

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