Dear Toddler Twins.
I am writing to complain about the unacceptable levels of bad behaviour currently ruining my life.
I have cited on at least 17000 previous occasions my objections to the following:
Throwing food I have cooked against the back drop of your screaming on the floor.
Your seemingly flawless ability to detect the levels of effort gone into afore mentioned food is directly proportion to how far you throw it. This is offensive and needs to stop. I will not feed you chicken nuggets every day despite them being easy to clean off the floor, unlike, for example fucking weetabix.
Constant unwavering, unending, nerve grating whining.
This tactic of yours is not only irritating but unnecessary. You may or may not be aware that there are two of you. This means that while one of you whining may be just about bearable, two of you doing it is not. It doesn’t make me want to help you. I have tried endlessly to teach you words to “help” you get your point across. Please for the love of god quit the whining so that I can be heard and this whole sorry and painful saga can stop.
If you were an adult you would be in prison.
I have watched you grow from delightful babies into fighting, biting, screaming banshees of destruction.
You seem primed to fly off the handle and attack anything in your path and it is breaking me. I did not raise you this way. You may well think that this is ‘part of your development’ and that you are ‘testing the boundaries’ and are ‘justifiably frustrated by the lessons of sharing, ownership and identity’. I also used to think that but in honesty, the more I look, the more I wonder if your just being a nob.
The ultimate insult is that despite trying my hardest to raise peace loving happy children if I rang the police to complain about this ongoing champaign of physical violence it is probably me that would look criminal – that or the policeman in the house would literally be the.most.exciting.thing.ever!
NO. NO. NO. NO
RIGHT…just stop right there. This one word of yours is very clever, but it is loosing its charm. Very quickly.
Do you want some more peas? NO.
Do you want some chocolate sprinkled with orange squash and sugar? NO (…your just saying it now!)
Have you done a poo? NO. (you clearly fucking have!!!)
Is it time for a bath? NO(…and your running away? WTF you love bath time… why oh why oh why must we perform this dance EVERY. SINGLE. NIGHT????)
While I am starting to question if this is all my fault (have I been too authoritarian? Should I just tell you its bath time…OMG those contradict) whose fault it is, is not the point. The point is I am trying to give you a stake in your own lives and starting to wish I hadn’t bothered. Only last week I found you answering the television in the same way:
Tired of your old worn out kitchen? NO
Need more storage? NO
You need a Magnet Kitchen? NO NO NO NO NO
You are like a chorus of negativity in angles bodies. Please twins: PMA!!!
If you would like to have some independence could you please start exercising some control and responsibility over your replies otherwise I will be forced to “NO” living in the same house as you.
Acting like butter wouldn’t melt in front of everyone else.
Your ability to act like cherubic ‘Downton Abby Children’ is impressive. However, its use only at times when ‘other people are around’ is insulting.
Its just me. Just your mother.
I spend every single minuet maintaining your existence. My body literally made you.
Do you think that for one second you could save some of this good behaviour for rainy Sundays with me instead of wasting it on my mother in law?
Its not fair and quite frankly while I know we need these people to think your cute in order to get some help, I find it a depressing indictment on my character that you seem unable to be pleasant in my company.
As your mother, the person most vested in your upbringing I need you to help me help you.
I cannot do this on my own.
Please try and hit the “acting like reasonable human beings” stage soon. For all our sakes.
I love you.