Can I Be Frank?

Hi, I'm Frank.

Get it? I love that joke.

Anywho. . .

What I really love is my precious little boy. He is the cutest little thing I have ever seen in my whole life. His smile and giggles make my day and I love the way his eyes light up when he sees me after I've been gone for awhile. It makes me so proud when people tell me how cute he is or how well he behaves when we are out to eat. The way he says "pop" when you pull out a popsicle or lollypop is enough to melt anyone's heart!

But sometimes. . . He. Drives. Me. Crazy. Hi, I'm Frank, and I want to strangle my child. There. I said it. How does that 17 month old, 24ish pound child know exactly how to drive me crazy? He hangs on my leg. He whines/cries/fusses for hours (OK, maybe just minutes) on end. He freaks and has a temper tantrum, complete with collapsing on the floor, over every little thing. He refuses to eat or throws his sippy cup on the floor. He won't go to anyone else but me. He wants to stay in the car, stepping all over everything and pushing the hazard lights button over and over, for hours at a time. Which forces me to eventually have to drag him out of the car, literally kicking and screaming.

Basically, he is just a toddler. And, I am only human. But I just wanted to get it off my chest. You know, before I explode. Thanks for listening.