Thanks to Deb for her word, “vung,” which means (and I gather this only from context): dang, crud, drat, crap, scat.
I say “vung” because today was a doozy. B took a trip to NYC to pick up (what else) an engine. He was gone from 4 am until dinnertime.
From the moment I got out of bed until right now, Joshua (aka Monster Toddler and Destructo Boy) has been AT ME. Right now he happily babbles his nonsense language in the tub. But ALL today he cried at my legs. When I picked him up he cried for me to ____ (not sure, really, what he wanted). He CRIED. And yelled. And cried more.
I spent three hours away from him at a pre-school board meeting, and he was, allegedly, quite good for the sitter (meaning he didn’t cry for her).
B assures me that Josh doesn’t cry for him, either. Apparently, it’s just me.
It is depressing to have a baby cry at you all day. Here, you want to eat this? Want to play with this? I guess if I was smart I would have put him in the tub at 9 am this morning.
Although, now again, he’s screaming and screeching. Oh, the humanity. I want to throw him from the window. A first floor window, of course.