The Rules

The Rules

I will not bite.

I will not hit.

I will not kick.

I will not spit.

I will not call my friends names.

I will not push.

And I must remember the most important rule of all…

I am the daycare provider. I am the daycare provider. I am the daycare provider. I am the daycare provider. I am the daycare provider. I am the daycare provider. I am the daycare provider. I am the daycare provider.I am the daycare provider. I am the daycare provider.I am the daycare provider. I am the daycare provider. I am the daycare provider.

Easier said than done.

In these last three days I have been:

Pushed
Bit
Hit
Kicked
Spit upon
Bent
Twisted
Twirled
Grabbed
Pinched
Mauled
Scratched
Licked…

Shall I keep going?

My conclusion is:

Little kids are monsters!

Seriously.

Who the hell in their right mind would want to have more than one of these little boogers.

Okay okay…

I amend that statement to:

Who the hell would want to have two of these little boogers right after one another?!

At least give them a few years apart.

Let the oldest one grow up and develop his “listening ears” first.

No wonder we all get gray hair.

And the poop!

Where does it all come from?

I know that those two fish sticks and two tater tots and scoop of fruit did not produce that much waste.

They must be eating their shoelaces or something.

And it’s not normal lump lump lump poop.

Nope their poop is  gushy.

Mushed all around the twig and berries (on the boys)…

Squished on the butt cheeks.

Going up the back.

And don’t even get me started on blow outs…

Yuck.

That’s when there is sooooo much poop..

It comes out the sides of the diaper.

Seriously. Holy crap (pun intended).

So add change of clothes to the fiasco and the crying and wailing that accompanies the whole mess and you’ve got a recipe for a frazzled disaster.

Then you’ve got the kids that are terrified of sitting on the potty chair.

You cajole and sweet talk them into the bathroom and once they are there and realize what you have in mind…

They flip the fuck out.

Crying and screaming and collapsing on the floor so it makes it damn near impossible to get them to sit up.

Once you wrestle their pants down and take the diaper off, you’ve got to use all of your strength to pigeonhole the poor kid onto the potty chair.

All they have to do it sit on the damn thing for one minute.

You’d think you were forcing them to shove crayons up their nose or something.

But there is one small accomplishment to be had from all of this…

I am now an expert at changing diapers with your kid standing up.

Might come in handy when I’m in Target and see a kid squinching his eyes up and pursing his lips and squatting down a little bit.

You’ll hear me yell, “MAN DOWN! MAN DOWN! NOBODY PANIC! I’VE GOT THIS! I’M A TRAINED POOP PROFESSIONAL.”

Then I’ll run across the aisle in my black leather outfit with my super cool Dr. Seuss diaper bag slung across my shoulder…

Whip out a diaper.

Pull down the pants.

Unvelcro the side tabs.

Wipe and whisk away the icky.

And put on the new diaper lickety split.

All within two minutes so that the dumbfounded mom can be on her merry way to buy the next Twilight movie without having to lift a finger.

Those folk won’t know what hit them.

Then I’ll slink back underneath the poofy ballerina dresses and await the next unsuspecting poopy diaper….

I sincerely believe that some of these kids hit and kick and punch on purpose.

Because most of the time they are good-natured little kiddos.

I retract that statement.

Some of the time they are good little kiddos.

Like me.

Most of the time I’m a delightful fun-loving good-natured gal.

But heaven forbid you take my tinker from me.

Then I’ll kick you.

And hit you.

And when you try to put me in time out…

I’ll bite you.

And believe me…

I’ll make sure I make it a good ol’ chomp.

You’ll have my teeth marks on you for a whole day.

I may even try scratching you.

Just to see if I can draw some blood.

And even though I know how much you reeeeeallllly reallllly want to bite me back to teach me how much it hurts..

You can’t.

Nanananabooboo.

Because remember….

YOU are the daycare provider.

And there’s not a damn thing you can do about it.

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About delightfulness

One sweet, quirky, delightful individual I am.
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