You were a Brat

This is a given. Everyone was a brat at some point and their mother wanted to tie them to the bed and tell them to JUST TAKE A NAP BECAUSE DAMMIT YOU WILL NOT BE SUCH A PILL AFTER A NAP. Or something to that effect.

Lately, Luke has been a High Priest of Pillness. When I pick him up from daycare, he grins ecstatically to see me, and commences running around in glee. He did this to my mother last night to - so happy to see her that he ran away laughing maniacally. Good social skills, kid. Run away when you see someone you love.

But upon getting him home, all hell breaks loose. The kid hates being inside. Hates it. On Wendesday, I got home and found that he just would NOT stop crying and hanging on the doorknob to the garage. It was really bothering my TV watching time. So reluctantly, VERY reluctantly, I put him in the jogging stroller and went around the block on a pathetic half run/half walk. Then I attached the stroller to the bike and we went for a forty minute bike ride. So he was outside for an hour. Still pissed when we went inside.

He's also been very clingy lately, not wanting to play alone for say, four seconds. Last night making dinner was quite a challenge, as I set up things to simmer while he grabbed and pushed my legs. In the five or seven minutes when I could played with him while things cooked, he sat ON me and was quite content, only to throw up a huge wail when I had to move to flip and stir things.

And yet, I am still looking forward to being home.