I’ve got it.
I haven’t even finished raising my toddler and I’m certain I have this disorder. Even though I just made it up.
I don’t know what’s wrong with him…other than the fact that he is a three year old boy. He pulls and hangs and whines and cries and oh.my.LORD it’s all I can do survive a day without dunking my head into a pot of boiling water.
One minute he is DYING if I don’t drop everything I’m doing righthatsecond to get him set up at the bar with yogurt and the next minute he is licking his spilled yogurt across the counter.
If my eyes…or ears…or mind…happen to wander to a subject that does not revolve around what he is doing rightthatsecond I will be terrorized until I am re-focused on what he is doing.
When I’m in public, and I hear a small child scream, I instantly fall to my knees and start throwing cookies, “HERE! TAKE THEM!! TAKE WHATEVER YOU WANT JUST PLEASE…DON’T SCREAM LIKE THAT!!!”
I set the clocks back each morning hoping my son will wake up and then put himself back to bed when he realizes it’s far too early to come downstairs. Never mind the fact that he can’t tell time.
I line the hallways with candy canes and sugar cubes and sticks of molasses hoping a constant supply of sugar will prove my undying love for him and convince him to take it easy on me.
Sure he’s a good looking little guy and of course I insist on tickling him and chasing him and nibbling his neck on a daily basis…that’s what I do. Why am I repaid with tantrums? Why? And when will they end?
Somebody hold me.