Today's mission is another easy one for me in particular. Fill out a survey of biographic/demographic information and write as a two-year-old. Seeing as I have one of those, I imagine getting inside the head of one shouldn't be too difficult.
Being Two is Terrible
Here I am, stuck in my crib, listening to everyone else have fun. Hey look! There was a coloring book under my blanket! Now if I can just grab those crayons right there on the floor... reach far... reach far... nope. Can't get them. What if I try yelling? "Mommy! Moooooommmyyyyyyyyy!" Hmph. Of course. The old standby: "It's bedtime; go to sleep." I don't understand. If it's bedtime, why is there so much noise out there? I can hear Mommy and Daddy and Aunt Wendy and Uncle Joe talking and laughing. They're playing with bells and balloons; I just know it. What else could that "pop" have been, or those clinking, clanking noises? They are having a party, and I want to go too. Mommy makes a big deal whenever I pee in the potty; maybe if I tell her I need to go, she'll let me get up and see what's going on. "Moooommmy! Mommy, I have to go potty!!!" Yup. That did it. Here she comes, practically running. Oh! I see the hall light come on... she's there in the doorway! "Hi, Mommy! I have to go potty." Yep. She's buying it. Jeez, lady! Be careful! I know you love it when I pee in the potty but if you pick me up like a sack of potatoes at lightning speed, I'm bound to go in the diaper instead! Now she's going to be annoyed because she'll think I was lying. Okay - I sort of was, but I could have gone in the potty until now. Now she probably won't take me downstairs, and I'll just get a spanking and sent back to bed instead of getting to go to the party. *Sigh* I never get to do any of the fun stuff. Being two stinks.