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We have been up 30 minutes and Pierce has had numerous fits.  First-of-all, he woke up crying sometime around 2 a.m.  Finally at about 2:20, I went in and got him, because I couldn’t sleep with all the screaming.  Into our bed he landed, and I couldn’t seem to position him dead center of the mattress.  He stayed on to my side no matter how much I tried to roll him closer to dad.  Four more fitful hours of sleep on one-third of a queen size bed—makes for a “Hello beautiful day!” attitude!

Sometime shortly after 6 a.m. Pierce is fidgeting and finally wriggled his way to the foot of the bed where he slithered off to the floor.  I was thrilled!!!!  More room for me!!!  Then the whimpering began…  Pacing, rolling, and whining…  I said it before and I’ll say it again, “Hello beautiful day!”  No, I don’t want to plant a pillow over someone’s cry hole.  Eventually, I surrendered to what I call my life and got up. 

I asked Pierce if he wanted to eat and he shook his head toddling off to the living room.  He found one of Mikey’s school buses to play with until my bum hit the sofa cushion.  Then he got mad about who knows what , but the bus obviously did something terrible, so he responds by dropping it on the floor and telling me “wan eat”.  “Do you want to eat?” I tried to confirm.  He got mad again and stood poised to throw this metal school bus onto “my” coffee table.  I told him NO emphatically, to which he responded by dropping it a foot from the table top where it landed with a hideous clatter at 6:15 a.m.  I scolded him and took the bus away.  This brought on tears and yet more angry squawking.   I walked away to make breakfast, hoping that ignoring the tantrum would make it stop.  Unfortunately for me, this child has major fortitude when making his point. 

After what seemed like an eternity in hell, the crying waned a bit and somebody arrived in the kitchen ready to eat.  I made him one waffle.  One waffle.  I bet I threw more than half of it in the garbage by the time he was done eating.  It is amazing to me what terrible eater this child is.  We were at our friends’ house last evening where we made dinner.  Whenever the boys are playing with other kids, they a really uninterested in food—unless its birthday cake.  We fed them in fits and starts, hoping that they would get enough.  I tried to fake Pierce out by handing him a piece of celery.  No cigar…  How does he know it’s a vegetable?  He eats tons of fruit—green grapes don’t scare him.  He will not touch a vegetable of any sort—I know it’s awful, but I’ve pretty much stopped trying—maybe he’ll like salad at some point.  Really, all he wants to do is drink all day long, consequently, so do I! 

When breakfast was over and I went to try to think of something to write for today’s blog post, Pierce was yet again irritated over something. Standing next to me crying while I’m pondering a subject to talk about, he gave me today’s story.  Such a contrast from last evening on the car ride home–he sang and chattered and mimicked the whole way entertaining his daddy and me while Mikey dozed.  Sometimes it’s like having a trained monkey and sometimes it’s like having the honey badger!

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