My 2 year old – JT, had a meltdown this morning. If he were writing this entry he’d say that I, Papi, had the meltdown and that he just had a strong difference of opinion. But he’s not writing this blog. 

 

JT and I have an on going debate about my hair gel. It pretty much goes like this,

 

JT, “Papi, I want hair gel.” 

Papi, “You don’t need hair gel.” 

JT, “A little gel?” 

Papi, “Ok, you can have a little hair gel.” 

JT, “No, a lot of gel.” 

Papi, “Ok then, no gel.” 

JT, “But Papi…..I want gel.”

 

How we get into this debate varies. How the debate ends usually depends on how the debate began. I’ll explain.

 

I buy the big manly containers of hair gel. If JT and I have our gel-debate while the lid is on the container, we’re ok. If we have the discussion while the lid is off, there’s usually trouble.   That’s because, the odds are we are debating while JT’s hand is wrist deep in the jar of gel. That was the case this morning.

 

I have cat-like reflexes-scary fast (I may be exaggerating). But apparently my reflexes were not quick enough to catch my toddler, on tip toes, from reaching onto the bathroom counter and into my over-sized jar of hair product.

 

“Papi, I want hair gel,” he says as he pulls out a huge glob.

 

“You don’t need hair gel.” I say giving his hand a little shake and plopping the gel back into the container.

 

Weighing his options JT says, “A little gel?”

 

“Ok,” I respond, “you can have a little hair gel.”

 

With the lightning speed I had been looking for only moments before, JT plunges his hand back into the gel jar saying, “No, a lot of gel,” and pulls out even more than the first time. 

 

I reacted by pulling the container away and saying, “Ok then, no gel.”

 

“But Papi,” he says, apparently unsatisfied with what he’s holding in his hand, “I want gel!!”

 

Before I can once again bring my superhuman reflexes to bear JT proceeds to wipe the big blue blob of gel from hell across his clean shirt, the bathroom wall and the counter. 

 

I loose it.

 

“I do not believe it,” I sputter. I take JT hands, scrape them clean, pick him up, carry him to the bedroom and proceed to undressed and re-dress him. 

 

Now, I don’t remember everything from the rambling lecture I launched into but I do remember the aforementioned, “I don’t believe it,” showing up often.

 

So, like I was saying, JT had a meltdown today. If he were writing this blog he’d say I, Papi, had the melt down and that he just had a strong difference of opinion. 

 

I think maybe JT should be writing this blog.