Is it bedtime yet?

I was mentioning the other day to my friend that bedtime (Wyatt's, that is) is my favorite time of day. Although she agreed, I felt slightly guilty for saying that. It's not always true, but there are certainly days...

Wyatt is continually asserting his independence and always seems to be testing to see what he can get away with. I'm told it's just a "difficult age" and my girlfriends with boys of similar age seem to have the same complaints. The kid has sure spent a fair amount of time on the "time out" step at our house lately. I've been thinking about some of Wyatt's unruly antics around town. I could probably write a handful of apology letters. Here's how they would start...

Dear Costco Staff,
I'm sorry that we left a trail of blueberries throughout the aisles as we were shopping. We got a little hungry and it was a bit tricky keeping them all in the container...
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Dear Doctor's office staff,
I'm sorry my son used his body as a human swiffer at your office (you're welcome for the clean floors). I guess the sensation of rolling around on your hard cool floors was just too much to resist.

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Dear Save-On Produce Manager,

I'm sorry that my son grabbed a couple of apples and started launching them from our cart, while yelling "Fire! Missile WUN!!!!" Yes, I did notice they were slightly bruised and decided to sheepishly sneak them back into the bin rather than purchase them. Again, I'm sorry...

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Dear Librarian,
I'm sorry that my son squealed at the top of his lungs to express his excitement over your book selection, interrupting the otherwise peaceful and serene setting of the library.
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Dear Waiter,
I'm sorry my son wasn't able to wait patiently for his meal and demanded "I WANT FREN FRY!! FREN FRYYYYY!!!! ARGHHHH!!!" while other patrons were trying to enjoy a relaxing lunch.

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Dear Superstore Clerk,

I'm sorry that my son chose the moment you told me my total to stand up in the cart and begin shrieking like a monkey, rip my credit card from my wallet and fling it through the air, causing me to have to scrounge around on the floor looking for it. I know it took me a while to find it and there was a line of people waiting, but it's really not that easy to bend over with this belly.
(side note: I'm very grateful to my friend and neighbor Joyce who appeared out of nowhere to whisk Wyatt away and kept him busy while her husband Dennis located my card.)
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There are probably a few other letters I could write, but they'll come to me later. As the mom of a two-year-old, I spend a lot of my day instructing, correcting and redirecting. Nana is going to have her hands full wrangling this rascal. I predict a nightly glass of wine will be in order.

So I don't leave you with the wrong impression about Wyatt, I feel I should mention that he does have many redeemable qualities. Even though there are days when he tests my patience unbelievably, he still has incredibly sweet moments that make me forget the bad stuff.

He always praises my culinary skills like his meals were prepared by a master chef, "OH YES! mmmmmm....dis sketti is GOOOOOD, Mommy!"

When he doesn't feel good or hurts himself, he whimpers and asks "Mommy hole you?", which really means Mommy, hold me, but since I ask him "Do you want Mommy to hold you?", that is what he asks me. I find it endearing that he still gets his pronouns mixed up sometimes.

I love that he finds so much joy in the little things throughout our day. He always greets each thing with excitement and enthusiasm, "I WUV WAHMART!" and "OH! Widing in Mommy cah is fun!!!" and "Oh YEEESSS! I wuv taking Bubble Baff!!" (he also can't pronounce L's or R's or TH's)

Every morning when I get him out of his bed, a slow, sweet smile comes over his face when he sees me and he says "Oh, good moh-ning, Mommy. Time a start da day!"

It's the little moments that make the ornery toddler antics all manageable. As my girlfriend always says, in an exhausted tone as she's chasing her own monkey around, "This too, shall pass." It's just a phase. Some day our kids will be grown and we'll probably miss these days. The memory is selective and I'm sure when I look back, I'll only remember the sweet things about my little guy. Excuse me, I just heard a loud crash and I better go investigate.....