This weekend went something like this:
Toddler wakes up at 5:58 Saturday morning. He usually sleeps until 7. Milk, breakfast, errands, go to town pool to buy season pass because today it opens for the season- hooray! Dress and take toddler toward the pool (like every single day was spent last summer, when I worked 4 days a week until maybe 3:00, which we both thoroughly enjoyed). Toddler screams, clutches onto my bikini top nearly pulling it off, and refuses the pool as if some form of ancient torture. Return to pool deck, sit for 20 minutes, bribe with goldfish crackers, finally get him to agree to sit on the side, on my lap. Making progress, toes in water, a smile or two, less clutching. Only to hear whistle blow and elderly (not very nice) life guard demands everyone exists the pool. Chlorine levels too high (and though they say they will test again in a half hour, the pool will then end up remaining closed for the entirety of the weekend).
Drive the 0.5 miles home, annoyed and wondering now what to do for the remainder of the day. Toddler refuses to leave car. "Boats, boats!” he demands. Said boats are located at the complex with the recently closed pool. Back to the pool we go. Arrive at marina next to pool, toddler refuses to get out. We sit in the car for 20 minutes. Then hes ready. A brief glance at the acclaimed boats, and hes over it. “House" he announces. Back home we go. This happens a few more times before the day mercifully ends, and I drink wine. This weekend I learned that people who say ‘it gets easier’ must have an enormous wine cellar, unlimited money to pay a nanny, and a well stocked snack cabinet. So far, 2 is no different than 1, except that now, the word ‘No’ is in the vocabulary, he can subsist on nothing more than milk and goldfish crackers for an entire weekend, and he weighs too much to physically force to do anything he refuses to do. Oh, and I have spent more money on wine than food in the past year.