What I didn’t mention is that in the face of all this rapid-fire sick emotionally distraught sensitive two-year-old madness, I myself am feeling unexpectedly, maybe unprecedentedly calm. Where two weeks ago I was
close to responding to Ingrid’s precise naptime water bottle positioning requirements by yelling I don’t know what you mean, the past several days I’ve been weirdly patient. Waiting out her naptime shenanigans. Offering choices and meting out consequences without so much as a clenched jaw or curled toe.
It is unnatural. I would not be surprised if I learned that A has been lacing my morning Tazo with barbiturates.