Flashback

We went to Platteville Saturday, came back Sunday.  Fun was had by all.  I figured since we were with him, there wouldn't be the dreaded decontamination period that we normally have to combat when our adorable little beast stays somewhere.  Makes good sense, but is way off of anything close to reality.  Last night suuuuuucked.

He was super grumpy most of the evening and was only truly happy if he was watching race cars.  Watching race cars cannot last all night...alas we were stuck with a kid wearing some serious grumpy pants.  All three of us navigated the night with no major issues.  And then it was bed time and the world ended.  He came up with every excuse he could possibly think of to keep me in there with him.  And when I had finally had enough and left, operation Scream My Lungs Out commenced.

It was a mixture of angry screaming, sad crying, pathetic wailing.  I held my ground.  I was crying while I was holding said ground, but he doesn't know that.  I had to be strong and not let him manipulate me.  I had to remember those horrid times when he was much smaller and we made him cry it out.  Which I was terribly successful at...until this morning.  I went in to get him when he woke up and he sleepily whimpered and said, "I try calling for you Mama."  That little shit was still layin' on a super thick, extra creamy layer of guilt trip frosting.  It was all I could do to not laugh/cry on our way to the living room.  Since his little manipulation trick worked, I sat a little longer with him before changing his diaper than I should have.

You would think I would change my jeans and shirt after his wet diaper leaked on me while snuggling my little emotional wrecking ball.  You would think that and you would be wrong.  Scented baby wipes work wonders.