Logan the Terrible

I don’t claim to be a scientist, or a doctor, but I am noticing some strange goings on in my house. Particularly things having to do with a certain 2 year old.

They say these are the years of the terrible twos. I will agree with the sentiment implied by this phrase and add to it this. Not on does Logan the Terrible live in my house, he rules it... and he knows it, and abuses this privilege.


Just the other day I was telling my son that eating dog poop... (While I was outside picking up said items) was yucky and to not do it. The punk dropped his find, walked around a tree, stood out of sight for a few moments, poked his head around the corner, to see if I was looking.... and then sprinted he didn’t  run or walk, no he sprinted back to the pile of poop picked it up and ran off... It is a wonder this kid has all his fingers, and has not broke something. After watching the dogs leap off the porch, and not use the steps... well monkey see monkey do has a whole new meaning to me no. Turns out 2year olds cannot fly, much to Logan's amazement.

To say I was in a poopy mood is just punny.


After I chased my Olympic runner son (who knew two year olds could run at the speed of the cheetah for extended periods of time. we went inside, to a place of safety where there was no poop. I could relax, or so I thought.


It was quiet, to quiet, and anyone who has ever raised or babysat a 2 year old knows this is the most dangerous time of all. It means they are doing something they know there not supposed to be doing. They are being sneaky. After a cursory look around the ground floor, I ventured upstairs, to find my son had opened the case I keep all my VERY expensive WWII models for war gaming in true battle array across the floor. It was gory, tanks had be ripped open by high caliber baby hands, men lay where they had fallen victims of a higher form of weapon. Carnage, in its truest form. I am sure I made some kind of sound because Logan looked at me, grunted, pointed to a tank that was missing 90% of its parts, and then ran off. As only a toddler can.

My day was not over yet; my last test of the morning came when we were eating lunch. Logan felt it necessary to share his lunch with the dogs, and threw a handful of food on the ground. I told him no, that his food was for him and not the dogs, he looked at me. I could see him reasoning in his little evil mind, what to do next. Then without breaking eye contact, this punk, took a handful of food, began to bring his hand to his mouth, stopped and threw his hand above the floor and dropped the food for the dogs.

Soon afterwards, (the seconds it took for me to clean his face and take him to bed) he went down for an early nap (2 hour screech fest and 1 hour nap)

I love my child, but some days I do wonder if God made alcohol for parents. I think tonight sounds like a good scotch night.

Hope todays a good one,


austininva