i stood in front of the refrigerator while holding violet in order to block his entrance. he experienced toddler rage from being unable to open the door, turned toward me, and promptly bit my ass. right under the right cheek. very hard. like, instantaneous shooting pain before i even knew what was happening. i tossed violet to brian and grabbed his arm to haul him to time out so fast, i still barely knew what was happening.
i was mightily pissed and marched myself to my bathroom and slammed the door, while he sat in time out laughing like a three foot tall sociopath. i took my pants down and revealed a nasty pool of blood stirring underneath my skin. it still fucking hurt. i actually had to ice that thing until it was numb. and then, stinging pains would periodically return while i sat and ate my seitan stew.
there was no dessert had last night.
he tried to bite my hand during dinner. i don't even remember why. oh wait. i was removing tortilla chips from his reach. i almost had to throw violet on the floor to block him. almost.
toddlers really are like tiny, little insane people.
speaking of, it occurred to me today that it's curious we are still allowed to use the term crazy. unless i've finally gotten old enough to have not received word that it has been stricken down according to PC etiquette and replaced with another multi-term phrase that means exactly the same thing like psychologically challenged. like how my grandparents still use the word coloreds, which i personally think sounds kind of fancy, like someone walking around with a rainbow-striped torso underneath their button down. but i suppose that's not quite the historical context.
after dinner, and after everyone (oliver) had stopped trying to rip everyone else (me) to shreds with their (oliver's) teeth, brian climbed up into the attic, where we illegally store some of our crap, and pulled down the toddler prison, also called the play yard. it had never occurred to me until we had set it up and oliver had gotten inside and i had said, "okay, put the roof on so oliver can't get out," that the play yard makes an excellent frame for fort building. just add a blanket. we could've been building deluxe forts all this time. i might start serving oliver's dinner with him inside the play yard in order to reduce the chance of injury to my person.
since i didn't plan well enough to take oliver to the park after school, i decided to break the starbuck's rule and take the kids for a little sit down. oliver had his apple juice and one of three pre-packaged madeleines while i sat in fear of the sugar rush to come.
and then, i took the long way home and discovered oliver know which way to turn when driving north on skillman. he was mightily displeased that i was passing home.