A Day in the Life of a 2-Year-Old

A Day in the Life of a Toddler

The daylight begins to peek out from atop my curtain. That’s my cue. I roll over and see Minnie Mouse on the floor. Will she ever learn to not roll out of the bed? I pick her up and put her back in her place at the footboard.

I stretch my arms. “Daaaaaaddy.”

No footsteps. I raise my voice higher.


Still nothing.

“Daaaaaaaaaaaaaadddddddddddddddddy!” “Moooooooooooooooooooommy!”

Don’t they get that it’s time to get up? Who cares that that they woke up with my baby brother three times last night and only slept for five hours? I got a full 12 and now it’s time to start the day.

“Daaaaaaaaaaaaad!” “Mooooooooooooom”

Footsteps. I climb back into bed and hide the evidence that I was ever playing with the bookshelf.

“Good morning, sweetie. How’d you sleep?”

“Good nap,” I respond. “Nummies.”

“You’re hungry? Okay baby, let go get some breakfast. What do you want?”

What I really want is those Oreos that Mom keeps up high in the pantry and sneaks while she thinks no one is looking. “Omee,” I respond.



“She said oatmeal,” Daddy informs Mommy. “Oh,” Mommy says with an eyebrow raise. How could she not have understood me? I said it as clear as day.

I open the cabinet drawer and grab a bowl and a spoon. Holding them close to my chest, I gently walk over to the table and slowly pull my chair out. As I try to climb up onto my chair I drop my bowl.

“Aaaaahhhh,” I whine. I get fed up with my clumsiness and throw my spoon on the ground in disgust.

Mom drops my middle name. “1….2….” I pick it up. I know what comes next and I am not about to miss out on my cinnamon omee.

“Do you want something to drink?”

“Appa joos.”

“Do you want fishies?”

Mom reaches her hand into the ice basket in the freezer. She thinks I don’t know that the fish ice cube tray has been sitting in the cabinet for the last two months. Of course I realize that, but I want ice in my joos so I don’t call her out.

After breakfast I make a mad dash to the playroom. I’m in search of my dolly Meep’s bottle. It’s not in sight, so I pull everything out of the toy box. Nope, not in there. I pull everything out of the bins. Still MIA. I open the refrigerator door in my kitchen. There it is!

Dad walks in and drops my middle name. What did I do? He trips over my Duplo train and catches his balance on my princess castle. Okay, okay. I’ll put something away. I pick up one puzzle piece and place it in the toy box.

I continue with the baby bottle.

Mom and Dad are in the family room trying to calm my brother. They haven’t been in here to play with me for almost 15 minutes. I’m starting to get sick of this lack of attention.

I pee my pants so they’ll focus on me.

My middle name is dropped again.

Mom whisks me to the bathroom to clean me up and asks me why I peed my pants. I won’t give up my secret. I just stare at her dumbfounded and say nothing.

Mom throws another pair of wet pants down the laundry shoot. The pile is accumulating and I fear that she’s beginning to catch onto my game.


“Mac-a-roni and chis!” I devour it. “More!” Another plate is made for me. I love that I ask and then it just appears. Why would anyone ever want to grow up?

Naptime, aka fit-time. “Twinkle!” I demand. Mom sings it twice. Yea, that’s not going to cut it. “Twinkle!” I demand again.

“One more time, okay?”

“OK,” I lie.

Mom leaves the room and I cry. “Twinkle!!!!”

Doesn’t she understand that three songs isn’t enough? I slide out of bed and run over the door, shaking the handle. My parents think they’re geniuses turning this lock around. I’ll show them.

I reach up, balancing on my tippy toes and jiggle the handle. I pick the lock and suddenly the door opens. Holy cow – it worked! I slowly open it realizing that I just successfully broke out of my room. No one’s there. Instantly regretting my scheme, I walk back in my room and slowly close the door again. Little did I know that Mom was watching the whole time. How does she always know when I’m up to no good?

“Young lady, get your tush back in bed.”

“Twinkle!” I beg.

“No, back to bed.”

I reach for it – the royal flush. “Potty!” “You have to go potty? Okay, let’s go.”

I don’t go. I just sit and smile. Mom catches on. Back to bed I go.

I ask for more songs. I cry a little. Nothing seems to work. Looks like I’m stuck taking a nap.

I try to sleep. I hear my brother next door crying. Does that kid ever stop? How much longer do I have to put up with my new roommate?

I end up sleeping for a solid two hours, which makes Mommy and Daddy happy. Happy parents mean I have a better chance to get that sucker I’ve been craving. I ask for one. “You can have one when you poop on the potty,” Daddy says. I’m really not sure the correlation with pooping and candy, but that’s fine with me. So I go poop and everyone gets really excited.

I get a sucker.

Dad gets ready to watch the football game with his friend, which means that Mom is in charge and going to make me dinner. Great, another peanut butter and jelly sandwich. I eat a few bites and seize my opportunity.

“P’nuts” I say looking into her eyes.

“Ok, hunny.”

She goes to reach for the can of peanuts in the cabinet. Ugh, no not those peanuts. “Em ems,” I boast. “Oh, you want trail mix?” She pours me a generous bowl of trail mix.


I eat all the chocolate chips and M&Ms and leave the peanuts and raisins. I can’t believe she falls for that every time!

I sit on the couch and snack. I look in the kitchen and see Mom with her hand in the pantry. She looks around and then shoves an entire Oreo in her mouth. I’ll tell Dad about that later.

It’s getting dark outside. I know that bedtime is soon approaching. I convince Mom that a bath is in order. I also convince her that I’m hungry again, need to dance, and read I’ll Love You Forever, even if that means she has to run around the house trying to locate where I last hid put it.

After 15 minutes, Mom finds the book under her bed. That was a good spot! I pat myself on the back.

Mom opens up the dresser drawer with my PJs. She pulls out a pair and starts putting them on. “Diaper,” I remind her. Sometimes I wonder how she leaves the house and goes to work everyday by herself. She rolls her eyes and shakes her head. “Yes, a Pull-Up would be a good idea, huh?” she says with a laugh. Not really sure why she finds that funny. Now if she found a big poop in my bed the next morning, that would be funny!

She reads me my book. I definitely thought this story was longer. I’m starting to get the feeling that she’s skipping some pages. I don’t call her out on it. I’ll just pull the potty card again.

She tucks me in, sings Twinkle twice and says “goodnight.”


She pulls the covers off me and we walk to the bathroom. What a sucker! I can’t believe she keeps falling for this.

I don’t go potty. Shocker.

We go back into my room.

“Night, night, Mommy. Lul you.” Mommy smiles and says, “Love you, too.”

I close my eyes and dream about doggies in cars. I sigh and smile, knowing that I get to do this all over again tomorrow.

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Ashley traded Prada for pacis in 2012 when she became a member of the elite club of motherhood. She is married to her high school sweetheart of nearly 15 years and together they have two toddlers - "Bear" and "Little Man." She spends her days as a marketing professional and nights writing this blog. In her [not so] spare time, she enjoys reading trashy tabloids, large glasses of buttery chardonnay, and shopping clearance racks.
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