Oh Mine Leo

It’s 2AM. Leo climbs into our bed, takes Kevin’s pillow, kicks him until he’s fully awake, then absent-mindedly plays with Kevin’s hair instead of his own while he tries to fall back asleep.

At breakfast Leo announces to everyone that he wants to ride a rattlesnake. As there are no rattlesnakes around for thrills, after breakfast he stands on the arm of the couch that Rocco is laying on. Rocco says, “No Leo! Don’t jump on me!” Leo says, “But I’m going to do something really epic!” I talk him down, explaining we don’t have an exception for “really epic things” in this case.

Later in the day Leo is holding his favorite Skylander, Bushwacker, and we have this conversation:

Leo: I am going to name him Dick.
Me: Duck?
Leo: No, DICK.
Me: Tick?
Leo: No, DICK.
Me: Dick?
Leo: Yeah.  Dick.

We go to the park and Leo keeps ruining the mountains Rocco is building. When I tell him to stop stepping on Rocco’s mountains he says, “But I’m a mountain climber!”

At dinner Leo sits down and asks for “shrimps.”  I ask if he wants me to take the tails off and he screams, “NO!”  Ten seconds later he screams, “TAKE THE TAILS OFF!”  Before taking a bite he leaves the table, saying, “I have go potty.”  He gets distracted by Lego magazine on the way.  I say, “Leo, don’t you need to go potty?”  He screams, “NO!  MOMMY!  Why you sayed that?!” 

He returns to the table and gets angrier and angrier with each minute that passes, as happens when he has to go potty.  It gets to the point that anytime somebody even looks in his direction he screams at them.  The rest of us think this is funny and start screaming if anyone looks at us as well.  This does not help the situation. 

Finally Leo says, “I have go potty.”  He wants to be carried. 

No, he wants to walk. 

No, he wants to be carried.  Definitely carried. 

I bundle him into my arms and carry him down the hall, whispering, “I love you even when you’re cranky.”  He says, “No, you don’t love me cranky.”  I insist I do, I do, and I tickle him until he doesn’t concede but at least he stops disagreeing.  I put him on the toilet and smile at his bare, dangly legs.  He screams, “CLOSE THE DOOR!  I NEED PRIVACY!”  I tell him I love him even when he needs privacy, then quickly close the door before he can yell at me again.

Just before bed we say prayers together and Leo prays, “Thank you for mine beautiful boys.”

And just like that, all is forgiven. I love that twerp.

Beef enchiladas
Brown rice
Refried beans
Steamed broccoli
Chocolate chip cake with milk chocolate frosting

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