Last night I discovered that in addition to all his other woes, the first of Matthew's two-year molars is beginning to cut through. Poor Little Dude has had a really lousy week. End result? A two-year-old that stands in the middle of the kitchen and screams, non-stop, until someone 1) picks him up and 2) correctly guesses exactly what he wants by interpreting his thoughts based on the pitch of his shrieking.
Mommy needs a break . . . and some earplugs.
1 comment:
Poor Matthew! He will be fine in no time. Good luck with the mind-reading. Sometimes we get it right. Thanks for commenting on my grown-up bed. It is nice to not feel like my room is a college dorm room.
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