Setting the record straight

Hello? Hello, hi, it's Ashton. A little birdie told me I'm getting a bad rap on this blog. Specifically, that I've been referred to as "a ferocious little dinosaur". Now that's just silly - dinosaurs aren't little and neither am I. Not sure where that comes from. It also seems that my mom is already blaming me for any and all future coffee table damage. You know that saying "who needs enemies when you have friends like that"? As if I would bother with the coffee table, the most boring piece of furniture in the house. Anyway, the point is that the birdie told me if I ever wanted to get on this blog and say my piece, now would be a good time. To save my reputation and all.

Besides general destruction, chaos and constantly sticky hands ("grubby little fists"), I am also accused of whining a lot. Well picture this: you're minding your own business, quietly playing with your trucks and then faster than you can say "Pampers" you are swept up, laid flat on your back with your legs in the air and your nether regions violated with a wet wipe. How do you think that feels? No warning whatsoever. You were just playing with your trucks! The only thing worse is the nubby washcloth that assaults my face after every meal. Listen, you'd whine too. You'd also be mad if your milk was too cold, your toys were too organized, and you were forced to take a nap every day. Who has time for that?? Personally, I'm too busy.

My mom recently started to read "The Happiest Toddler on the Block". I snuck a peek - who is this person? What kind of Kool-Aid are they drinking? While it didn't give me a name, I did learn that members of my demographic should be considered "little cavemen", unequipped with patience or the ability to reason and hence, prone to tantrums. I sat quietly pondering this. Well, which is it? Am I a caveman or am I a dinosaur? Perhaps the problem is that they can't come up with something more modern! Either way, I would like to meet this H. Toddler. Maybe the snacks are better at his house.

I've been enrolled in Early Intervention for speech. At 20 months old, my vocabulary is not big enough and I don't pro-NUN-see-ate. I do wave and say "Buh-bye" quite frequently, and it's intentional, but my mom never gets the hint. She smiles and then STAYS where she IS. So annoying. I end up having to be the one to leave, usually in search of a toy that I don't own because she never buys me anything. But where was I. Oh, Early Intervention. So far EI has meant a nice lady coming once a week for an hour to play with me. Besides her terrifying bumblebee puppet, I like her. She calls me "adventurous and brave" instead of  "ferocious" like my mom SOME people.

My best friend is Owen. He is the only one I would ever want at the top of the slide with me. NOT my mom. The bottom line is, what does she want from me? I know I'm not the best shopper. Sitting in one place for an extended period of time (>1 minute) is a lot to ask. I know I tug at her leg when she's trying to brush her teeth, or cook, or do anything at all, really. I like to be included, so what? But I sleep through the night. I drink my cold milk. I take the damn nap! A little appreciation for my positive qualities would be nice around here. In fact, based on what I've read, my mom should be thanking me for the material. I'm the talent! Now who do I call about royalties?