Today is one of those days. The kind of day where you throw your hands up in the air and say "That's it. Call the short bus I'm throwing you all on." Baby forgot place value. And how to tell time. And how to count. And that's after a week of no summer school. She did not forget to tell me that it is my fault because I got a book that was too hard for her. Heaven forbid the third grade student do third grade work. Meanwhile, as I was trying to remind Baby that she did indeed know state she lived in, Mac completed half his workbook. And X-Man contemplated biting me. He thought a particular drawer in the kitchen should be opened. I did not. He screamed at me and opened it again. I said "Unless your head's on fire, don't scream at me like that" and shut the drawer. I kept my  hand on it and thus thwarted his plans. Enraged he lunged towards my hand, mouth wide open. He moves faster than he thinks, but he did manage to catch himself, as his teeth barely grazed my skin. Slowly he turned his large eyes towards mine. "You want to rethink that choice young man?" He took me up on that offer and backed out of the kitchen.  Oh yeah, and the father figure drank all my beer. The "girly, sissy, way too sweet" stuff that was supposedly waiting for me after a long day of soccer and school.

So that was my day.

So this is a bumbo chair. Little ones, who are not capable of sitting on their own quite yet, can sit upright in it and observe the chaos into which they have been born. Note to the readers, apparently the bumbo was recalled or something because some parents would place their highly unstable children in it, on a high surface and then leave said child unattended. The still top heavy child would topple and injuries would abound. That's not prudent. An advantage to having thousands of children is that you can't ever leave the baby unattended because you will return to her eyes gouged by her enthusiastically affectionate brother. Speaking of improper uses of the bumbo chair, X-Man is obsessed with it. Much as he is obsessed with Cinco's playmat with toys that hang overhead. I am chalking it up to part of his refusal to be potty trained. He is perfectly willing to share the baby spotlight with Gestated Cinco, but he will share it. There will be no surrendering of it. So, of course, he too must sit in the bumbo. Fortunately, at least at this point, he is still willing to wait until Cinco is out of it.

The first, of many problems, with X-Man's attempts to sit in the bumbo is that he is a first world toddler. His legs are about the size of my arms. There is a certain amount of give in the bumbo, to allow babies of varying sizes in. But part of the beauty of the chair is that it doesn't easily release the child. Which greatly annoys X-Man. And leads to the bumbo butt. And rage. Because, while he most certainly wants to be free, he's not interested in anyone removing it from him as that means they are taking it away from him. Most likely to give it to Cinco and We. Can't. Have. That. So he staggers around. Chair and all.

Which is why, at least one of the many reasons, I avoid all things parental on the internet. Most especially anything else written by a home school mom. I don't need to hear how your toddler is conjugating verbs in Latin while mine in pooping in the corner and then helpfully bringing said waste products to me. I'm well aware of the fact that someone has to bring up the bottom of the scale. I guess this is how I take one for the team.