Angry Farts

After a very long day full of annoyances and disappointments, Marcus was rather cranky. He and Becca got into a row over toys, and I sent them both downstairs to undress for their bath–only by then, Marcus was so grumpy that he didn’t want a bath.

“No! I do not want a bath! I want to go to bed dirty,” he screamed as I carried him down the stairs. Not taking a bath was out of the question, as in the course of the afternoon he had played in the muddy backyard until it began raining again.

“No! I hate getting wet! I want my clothes on! You are a bad mother!,” he cried as I undressed him and lifted him (not a mean feat when he’s throwing a tantrum) into the tub where Becca was already arranging shampoo bottles.

“No! No! No! No! _No!_,” he fussed as I turned on the water.

“It is too hot! It is too cold! It is wet! I have soap in my eyes! I want a new mother!,” he complained vociferously as I bathed him. Becca had no complaints.

“I want cavities! I hate clean teeth! Mmph mmmph mmph!,” he screamed, even as he opened his mouth to let me brush his molars.

It was quite a tantrum, and it just kept getting sillier and more ridiculous as he went through his paces.

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