Munchkin, I love you, but today you are driving me absolutely nuts. You have spent the entire afternoon crying, whining, and not sharing with your cousins. We are talking a straight four hours or so of meltdown after meltdown. You cry because you want a toy, then cry once you get it. This brand new high pitched, shrill scream of yours is more than I can take. My nerves are shot. I’m tired. I’m tired of handing you things, offering you snacks, offering you juice, trying to cuddle you … to no avail. If I can get you calm for ten minutes, you come up with some imaginary reason to start up again. You are making me feel like a crazy person. I have given you Tylenol incase it’s teething, but I suspect it has more to do with your age and your point in development. It feels like you’re starting to test the limits, and I’m not ready for this. I’m not sure if I’m supposed to ignore you, reprimand you, or try to comfort you. I need booze to comfort me today. What’s happening to my sweet baby girl? What are you so frustrated about? Sigh. If you’re reading this … send help. And wine.