“Want Gooby Gooby nuke nack an’ die mins?” I ask nicely because Mommy is more likely to give me what I ask for when I do.
“What, honey?” she asks. She looks confused. Did I forget to say please? Maybe I forgot to say please..
“Pleeeease…” I offer up my biggest puppy-dog eyes.
“What do you want? I didn’t understand you, bud.” She’s making a cup of coffee and holding the baby. She’s always holding the baby.
I let out an exasperated sigh and throw my hands up in frustration. Mom does that a lot and I think it helps get the point across, so I use it whenever possible.
“Awww! Mommm! I jus’ want gooby goop nuke nack. An’ die mins, too.”
“Scooby Doo fruit snacks and vitamins?” Geez, finally she gets it. It’s not like I’m speaking a foreign language here.
“Yea!!” I nod my head excitedly and hop-hop-hop over to the pantry where the fruit snacks are. We get out two packages for my morning snack – always two – and carry them back into the kitchen. Mom gets me a bowl and hands me the open packages one at a time. She knows the fit I can throw if she doesn’t let me pour them into the bowl myself.
“Die mins, too?” I ask, barely able to contain my excitement.
She reaches into the cabinet and pulls out the bottle of dinosaur gummies. “Yep! Vitamins, too!” she answers. “How many do you get?”
“TWO!!” I yell. I count them as she puts them in my bowl. “Onnne…. threeeee..”
“No,” Mom says. “Silly. It’s one, TWO.”
“Yep! TWO!” I say. Duhh.. that’s what I said.
I grab the vitamins in my already sticky hand and hop-hop-hop out to the living room with my bowl. Mom doesn’t like when I hop while she’s trying to get the baby to sleep ’cause I’m super-loud hitting the hardwood floor and it always wakes him up. I can’t help it, though. Hopping is fun.
“Braeden… quiet! I’m trying to get your brother to sleep.” See? Told you she doesn’t like it.
I plop my bowl down on the coffee table and, within minutes, I have the contents eaten. Darn. I want more food. I can eat a lot, you know.
Mom just sat down, so now’s a good time to ask because she obviously isn’t busy doing something else.
“Mommm, I want nonga bar,” I shout as I stomp across the floor. The baby starts crying again. Naughty baby. “Baby! No cry! You go in time OUT!” I say to him, my lips pursed.
“Braeden, stop! You need to be quiet; the baby’s trying to sleep!” Obviously, he isn’t. He’s crying. That’s why I said he’s naughty and needs time out. Mom has no idea what’s going on sometimes.
“I want nonga bar,” I say, switching tactics. Baby’s still crying. Maybe he needs me to kiss him. I run over and land myself across Mom’s lap, covering baby’s face with kisses.
Wow. His face is really red when he cries.
Mom sighs and stands up. “You want a granola bar? Fine. But that’s it. And please get off the baby!”
I follow her into the pantry. How can I possibly be on the baby when she’s holding him?
“I not onna baby, Mom!” Man, this woman can be dense.
She sighs again and hands me a granola bar.
“Yayyyy! I get nonga bar!” I yell my approval, running off with my much-coveted snack.
I throw in a couple hops on the way for good measure.
Baby can’t hear it over all that screaming anyways.
This post was written in response to a prompt by The Red Dress Club and was done from the perspective of my 2 year old. Because, yes, he can drive me crazy like no one else.
Write a first-person piece – as if YOU are this individual. Write from his or her perspective and include the things that really bother you. This can be completely fictional or you can base it on a real-life person.
Word limit is 600.