By a 12-month-old.
Doesn't get much more lame than that, folks.
Right, so The Despot is a bit of an independent sort. It's not uncommon for him to wander off exploring whatever he deems worth his attention. He's perfectly happy to be in a different room, away from me and/or Fruit Loop, content to babble his way through one of those randomly fascinating baby experience things, (e.g., banging the cupboard doors, peering out the window, flapping loose electrical cords around...you know, the usual).
So that's today's scene. He's been off doing his own thing for a few minutes, and I had a few minutes' worth of downtime, so I decided to go find him and see what he was up to. (I know, I'm a totally responsible mom. No risk of child endangerment here!) Turns out he's busy with one of his favorite pastimes: opening and closing the bathroom door. This time there's a twist, though, and that is: he typically does this w/ the bathroom door when someone is in the bathroom. Today, however, there is nobody. Lights are off, nobody home. He is sitting inside, closing the door and muttering to himself.
Of course, I know how much he loves this game, and loves to exercise his 12-month-old power and close the door! Haha! Take THAT, overbearing adult lady! So I think I'll open the door and we'll play around. Yet what do I hear when I open the door? What greets my expectant ears? Yells! And a most forceful CLOSING of the door - the little booger wasn't even going to let me in!
When I finally do manage to squeeze my way through, he scoots back and starts flailing his arms, kicking his heels against the floor, yelling in protest.
Dude, I'm that bad? Really?
My poor, rejected self can take a hint even from a 12-month-old. I and my bruised ego slunk away, and The Despot went back to happily playing by himself. In the bathroom. Alone. In the dark.
*****
On a more positive note: I have consumed over a pound of chocolate-covered pretzels in the last 24 hours.
It's for my high metabolism.*
Seriously.
*(I don't have high metabolism. Shhh!)
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