This child will be the death of me. Whether he gets his way, or not, he’s the biggest terror. Allow me to elaborate...
If he’s got something to say, even if you’ve told him you don’t want to hear it, he’s gonna say it. You can’t stop him. If you try, he just starts shouting until he’s finished his thought.
He has this super weird thing about keeping the door to the basement open, and if you try to close it, it’s Tantrum Town. He’ll literally stand in the doorway just so you can’t close it.
As with most kids, he either can’t smell, or simply doesn’t care about, his own stench.
You can’t make him do anything, unless he’s getting rewarded by the act itself.
And oh, the messes he creates. He loves them. He revels in them. His mess is his happy place.
This two-year-old of mine is actually 74. A 74-year-old narcissistic hoarder I was forced to call “dad” for 32 years. The “dad” who made fun of me, provoked me for his own amusement, and played the victim when I finally let him have it. This is my reality.
He doesn’t have conversations. He has monologues. If you try to say something, even in response to what he’s saying, he’ll shout over you until he’s finished.
He wants the basement door open the entire time he’s upstairs. Why? Because he will, at some point, go back downstairs. This could be anywhere between a minute and several hours. The biggest problems with this are the fact that the basement rivals the temperature of Antarctica, and it reeks. *Read on...*
The basement reeks because the man is a hoarder. A vast majority of what’s in the basement is actual, literal garbage. Newspapers that are ten or more years old, VHS tapes he can’t watch because he has no VCR, towels that have been labeled “trash” by any sane person are being used as “blankets”. Then there’s the old TV that was replaced like four years ago, and the two (yes, two) old computers that are nothing more than oversized paperweights. Don’t take my word for it. Watch the attached video.
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