My name is Merrick. I am two years old. Every morning, I wake up. I open my eyes and see that I have once again lost the fight to stay awake all night long. I am in my crib. I whine. Nobody seems to hear me.
So, I scream.
2 seconds go by, and no one has come to check on me. I scream louder.
Mom comes in. I find her to be unpleasant. I scream. I want my juice. So I scream. I don’t want my juice in the green cup; I prefer blue today. Mom should know that. I scream.
I sit on the couch. Mom covers me with the furry blanket. I wanted to be covered with the Florida Gators blanket while sitting on the furry blanket. I scream.
For some reason, Tarzan is not on TV. I scream. I sip my juice. The cup is now only three-quarters of the way full. I scream. Mom turns on Tarzan. I wanted Lightning McQueen. I scream.
I hear Mom in the kitchen filling up the coffee pot. I race in to help her; I am not allowed to touch the coffee maker. I scream. I touch it anyway. It’s hot, so I scream.
I go back to the living room. Where is Mia? I am bored. I scream. Mia comes in the living room and dares to sit on my couch. I scream. She screams back. And so I scream again.
Mom is pouring coffee when she should be getting me my trucks. Doesn’t she realize I can’t watch Cars without them? I scream. She brings the wrong color truck. I scream. I want my animals instead. I scream.
Mom drinks her coffee. She won’t let me have any. I scream. She has some nerve to sit in front of me with that polka-dot mug of steamy, caffeinated goodness. I scream over the sheer injustice of it all.
I look at the ceiling. Mom comes in with a diaper. I don’t want a diaper, so, yet again, I scream. She suggests I use the potty. Outrageous. I scream.
The dogs are up. They are outside. Why can’t I pee outside? I scream.
Where is my food? I scream. I am sick of cheerios–in fact, I never really liked them to begin with. I scream. How can we be out of bananas? I only eat three a day. I scream.
I do not understand why I can’t ride my 4-wheeler at 7:00 in the morning. I scream.
I do not understand this "Be quiet" that everyone speaks of. What does that even mean? I scream.
This concludes the first 15 minutes in an average day-in-the-life of me. I will be back later with details of the time of day I like to call "The Hour In Which Mommy Loses It Big Time".