The kind of post that might make people wonder what kind of mother I really am

So, remember when I mentioned that Boo had learned to work doorknobs? Well that day looks pretty freaking fabulous right about now, because today this happened:

Um, apparently now he knows how to climb. Into things, out of things, onto things, (insert preposition here) things.

My mom has been warning me this day would come. Every time she would mention it casually in conversation, she would get this look on her face and kind of giggle like she knew what was coming my way. Because she totally did. And now she can bask in all her ha-ha-I-was-right-AGAIN glory.

It’s got to be payback for the awful things I did to her as a child. Now every time I tell her about one of Boo’s newfound skills, she tells me (quite joyfully, I might add), “Oh, you kids NEVER did that.” And then she laughs. Laughs her fool head off because she knows I flip the fuck out every time he does something startlingly advanced for his age.

Like when we addressed the whole doorknob and lock problem. Yesterday I bought a package of childproof doorknob covers at Walmart and put one on the inside and outside of Boo’s door as well as the door to our bedroom. Confident in my baby-proofing skills, I showed Boo his new doorknob bling and asked him to try to open the door.

Let me just say this: those SafetyFirst bitches LIED.

Those little plastic things aren’t baby-proof. They’re not even baby-resistant. It took Boo exactly 5.7 seconds to figure out that all you have to do to open the door is depress the two little buttons at the side of the device and twist. I was on the phone with my mom at the time bragging about my purchase, and then I was all HOLY SHIT, HE JUST OPENED THE DAMN DOOR. My mom was all, “No, it’s just a fluke. The door wasn’t shut properly.”

AND THEN HE DID IT AGAIN.

My mommy is not that bright.

Chuh. I know, right?

Thankfully, it seems like going to sleep last night erased any and all memories of doorknob understanding, because today he fiddled with the same door for hours without unlocking (ha!) its secrets. It was really funny to watch, too, because I could see his little mind whizzing. He was very analytical and scientific about the whole ordeal–coming up with and testing hypotheses, then discarding the ones that didn’t work before coming to his conclusion.

That is, until he got pissed off and decided the whole zen learning thing was for the birds.

(DOORS SUCK, Y’ALL. RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGE!)

To prove my point, I turned on SpongeBob and shut the door to his bedroom, then summoned Red to stand outside and listen with me.

Red: What are we listening for?

Chelsie: Just wait.

Boo: (five seconds later) Mommy. Open da doo-ah.

Chelsie: No, Boo. You open the door.

Boo: NO! (rattle, rattle, rattle) Moooooom-meee! (rattle, rattle, thwack)

And then we stood there as he twiddled the knob back and forth for about two minutes. After a little while, things got kind of quiet.

Red: What is he doing in there?

Chelsie: Just wait. Give it a sec–

BOOM! CRASH! SMACK!

Boo: Mooooom-meeeeeee! Open da doo-ah!

Red: What the hell is he doing in there? It sounds like we’re housing a pygmy rhino in the closet. The neighbors are going to call the cops.

Chelsie: I think he’s sick of being analytical.

(KICK, KICK, FLAIL)

Okay, I know flailing doesn’t technically make a sound, but if there an onomatopoeia to describe pure, unadulterated toddler anger, that would be it.

We finally opened the door–and before I get any angry e-mails screaming WHAT’R U THINKING YOU HORRIBLE PERSON U DON’T DESERVE TO BE A MOTHER I SHOULD CALL CPS ON YOUR SORRY ASS UR A NEGLIGENT MONSTER–it was only about five minutes. Five delightfully funny minutes.

Dude. He was learning. Learning to be scientific and shit. Testing his ideas and doing the scientific method and all that. Learning.

And then right before I put him to bed tonight (which he vehemently disliked), he let the other ball drop.

Boo: Mooooom-meee! What the thuck?

Chelsie: Oh. My. God.

So yeah. My kid has more skillz than yours, and he can curse like a sailor.

Whoops.

About Chelsie

Mommy. Beauty product whore. Plastic lawn flamingo enthusiast. Nosy neighbor. One day novelist.
This entry was posted in Boo. Bookmark the permalink.

5 Responses to The kind of post that might make people wonder what kind of mother I really am

  1. Michelle says:

    HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA…*gasps for air* HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA…

    Why does absolutely none of that surprise me? :)

  2. Brooke Perceful says:

    Best. Post. EVER.

  3. Aunt Patti says:

    Aw, Chels…I think all kids go thru that — although I don’t think any other Mom could write about it quite so well…my sides hurt from laughing!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

  4. I’m a new fan. You’re freaking hilarious!

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