Since the arrival of H2, Hatchling has been sure to tell us 847 times a day that he is a tiny baby. He has driven this point home by his refusal to clean his room, mind his mother, or use the potty. I have tried to be nice, to reassure him that while he will always be my baby, he is in fact a big boy. Yesterday, I decided to try a new tactic. If he wants to be a tiny baby, he's going to enjoy all the perks and privileges that go along with it.

I served him baby cereal (does anyone else think it smells like wallpaper sizing? Oddly enough, I like that smell...) for lunch. For dinner, creamed peas with baby cereal. And milk out of bottles, of course. Daddy and I had hot dogs, chips and strawberries, all among Hatchling's favorites. Bed time was early, just like H2's. No tv, because tiny babies don't watch tv. No soccer with Daddy, and no working in the garage with Daddy. You get the picture.

This morning, after two bites of plain baby cereal, Hatchling ran upstairs to put on big boy underwear. He was tired of it. He was thus allowed to enjoy big boy diversions until this afternoon. After his nap, he peed and pooped in his pants. Poor baby. Now he's taking an unusual 2nd nap, because tiny babies nap a lot in my house. Oh, and I'm making him crawl everywhere, cause everyone knows babies can't walk.

Hell hath no fury like a mother who has just cleaned poop off of her carpet.