Today I pulled my mother’s hair really hard by double handfuls — twice! –, hit her, and bit her shoulder. I had two time-outs by noon-thirty. I coloured on the TV screen, and all over my train tracks. Then I threw a massive tantrum after lunch and refused to go to bed for an hour. I got some awesome screaming in, and nearly threw myself out of the crib head-first two times. She read to me to calm me down, which was great, but I only got an extra two stories.
Then the mean people next door started their ride-on mower right outside my window while I was still asleep and I woke up screaming.
But in between I’m having a good day, when I forget that I’m not.
Who has my child? Because this one is so not mine.