Why I Like the Wine That Comes in the Big Box

Early this morning, Griffin and I were snuggling on the sofa. Griffin is such a little peanut ~ a little wisp of boy with huge, bright blue eyes, and at times I feel as if I could eat him up. I said to him, as I often say to both of my boys, "How did I get such a sweet boy? Did I just get lucky?" Without missing a beat, Griffin replied, "No, Mama! You got a Gwiffie!" I don't think Griffin realized it, but he hit the nail right on the head.

You see, my two boys are very, very different little creatures. I will not hesitate for a moment to boast about my firstborn, and tell you that he is a dear and gentle soul that has rarely given me any headaches to speak of. When he was two, I remember thinking, "What's all this talk about terrible twos? This kid is a cinch!" Then three came along and there were some new challenges, but still, nothing to get very worked up about. But, Griffin? Well, he is very, very good at being two. I dare say, he is an expert in the field. Maybe it is because I am old. Maybe it is because I haven't had a solid night of sleep in nearly 6 years. Whatever the reason, the boy wears me out. Here, let me share some photos with you, to back my story up:

Exhibit A: A random day last week ~ the collection of toys atop my china cabinet. Toys that were confiscated from Griffin for various indiscretions (i.e. throwing at brother, throwing at cat, throwing at dog, etc.)

Exhibit B: This would be Griffin, after he unloaded about a half of a can of aerosol hairspray onto his head. No, he didn't get any into his eyes, somehow. He was really peeved when I found him and had the gaul to take the can away from him.

Exhibit C: Random self-portraits that keep appearing mysteriously, on my digital camera.

And then there are the incidents that I haven't captured with my camera, such as when Griffin sprayed his head with my favorite Donna Karan perfume. Not once. Not twice. He sprayed and sprayed until his hair was dripping wet. Much as I loved that perfume, I'm pretty sure I'll never be able to wear it again, because my bedroom (and Griffin's head) literally reeked for two weeks. Perfume overload is like getting sprayed by a skunk, people. You cannot get that smell out, no matter how many times you shampoo.

And how about the other day, when the house went silent for a few minutes, which is the universal sign for Griffin is Up to No Good. I found him in the bathroom, attempting to stuff full rolls of toilet paper into the toilet.

Then, this morning. Griffin didn't know I could see him, and I watched him walk up to the cat, pull his tail, and then proceed directly to his naughty chair. I mean, seriously.

Mind you, Griffin is not like this all of the time. However, something has got to give because I live in fear of being "that mother"...the one that other mothers cringe at when they see her coming, because her child is insane. So I am doing my best to whip this little hooligan into shape. Wish me luck.

Fortunately for Griffin, he is very cute:

And he likes to play Naked Farm, which totally cracks me up:

Oh...and I love him more than life itself.