Why do 85% of all my photos look like this?
I'll tell you why:
and breaking every single Dr. Suess ceramic piece I have owned for years. Sorry, no photo. Too sad to document.
In closing, before anyone kindly suggests that this is just the "Terrible Twos" approaching, let me present you with this photo documentation that disproves that theory. Here she is on a typical day a year ago. I just noticed that her shirt says "happy." Cruel irony.
It reminds me of the beginning of that poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow:
I'll tell you why:
If there is one skill that Violet has truly mastered it is throwing a proper fit. She has elevated it beyond simple skill and has actually crafted it into an art form. She is the Marie Spartali Stillman of tantrums.
When I started this blog I was pregnant, swollen and feeling none too clever. I just chose a title based on what I was calling the yet-to be-born Violet at that time and have kept it the same. I began by calling her "Wee Little" which quickly became the shorter: "Weloo," which I then made redundant and even more nonsensical by adding the "Little" back in front of. (And now you know!)
However, on days when her temperamental artwork is especially passionate I do consider renaming my blog. Here are some examples that I have briefly considered when the shrieking reaches decibels that certainly have inflicted irreparable acoustic trauma:
- Mommy Needs a Quaalude
- The Changeling Diaries
- The More You Scream The More I Drink
- We're Not Asked Back to Playdates!
- Everyone in this Woolworth's Thinks We're Dysfunctional
- I Said Stop Kicking, Please
Okay, so it hasn't actually driven me to drink or barbiturates... yet. And when she's not causing hearing loss in others she's a real swell gal. Some of her other hobbies include:
Finding my lotion and trying to eat it on the sly.
Making hats out of weird objects.
and breaking every single Dr. Suess ceramic piece I have owned for years. Sorry, no photo. Too sad to document.
In closing, before anyone kindly suggests that this is just the "Terrible Twos" approaching, let me present you with this photo documentation that disproves that theory. Here she is on a typical day a year ago. I just noticed that her shirt says "happy." Cruel irony.
It reminds me of the beginning of that poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow:
There was a little girl
Who had a little curl
Right in the middle of her forehead;
And when she was good
She was very, very good,
But when she was bad she was horrid.
Who had a little curl
Right in the middle of her forehead;
And when she was good
She was very, very good,
But when she was bad she was horrid.
Well, if we just replace "curl" with "crazy mohawk" it suits her.
I love that moody girl.
8 comments:
AHH that is what a little weloos is all about. Violet is such a devil but so devastatingly cute. I also enjoy the delicacy of Swiss Formula lotion. 1989 is a good year for it.
I think your blog title is cool and very Mysterious. Everytime I log onto your page I think to myself: I wonder what that means? Now sadly that has been taken away from me.
I definitely think the word Little added to the words that mean little was a very clever idea. You should keep it for sure. And Violet...well she's just little, and cute.
The dreaded Appalachian Weeloo comes in for the kill. Fortunately for its prey, the Weeloo - much like the rattlesnake - gives warning.
even through the tantrum the first picture is devilishly cute..lol...our children are getting too big and too smart for their own good..they know how to work our nerves to the point of panic attacks, cardiac arrest, raw nerves, and dare i say the drink..but after all is said and done at the end of the day all you can do is smile...well...because they are sleeping.
( and there is that thing called love that is unconditional too and the fact toddlers are too funny without meaning and trying to.)
There's a website called T-Shirt Hell and they have a shirt for toddlers that states, "Mommy drinks because I cry." If I weren't such a cheapskate ($18!), I would totally buy it. LOL.
lol. the first couple of pics remind me of my sister when she was a baby. every pic she was crying and screaming.
Ah, the little girl poem. Reminds me of my daughter...had to put her in anger management at 18 months old. Now she's six. Instead of throwing things, she writes emotional blackmail notes to me.
I blame her father's DNA.
Right now I am glad my children came out with four legs and a beard.
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