9: Number of times today I stepped onto my front porch, out of Violet's earshot, to scream FUCK!", out of frustration.
8: Number of heavy furniture pieces I rearranged in order to constructively utilize my impotent rage. (It didn't really work.)
7: Number of times various neighbors saw me going onto the porch and screaming "FUCK!" to no one in particular.
6: Times Violet made me laugh unexpectedly. It was her survival mechanism kicking in. All toddlers have this secret power and they only use it when you are really about to lose it. Good call, Nature!5: Number of times I've cleaned up either pee or poop from the floor after finding Violet running naked and laughing.
4: Number of new neighbors whose first impression of my family is me chasing Violet through their freshly-purchased yard; Violet screaming and running the whole time as though I'm a kidnapper.
3: Times I've openly questioned the wisdom of becoming a breeder.
2: Minutes Violet spent in her kiddie pool, after screaming for twenty minutes for me to set it up.
1: Number of Elvis doctors I will need to recover from this day. It only takes one. (Or Michael Jackson, or Anna Nicole. Whichever drugged up celebrity you choose. Just get them on the phone for me!)
* Please note that after all this Violet actually asked for a 'baby brother'. Where she got this insane thought I have no idea. Hahahahaha! Right, kid. Comin' right up... after the pet unicorn!