Some days...

...are just plain rough when you're two. You wake up and you just have to be mad at someone. (That's a butterfly net on his head, by the way.)

So you yell at your brother, "Stop wookin' at me!" And when your sister Keaton greats you, you scream, "Stop talkin' to me!" And when you sister Sutton tries to kiss you, you scream, "Stop gettin' all my sugars!" And when your sister Reagan tells you good bye, you bellow, "Weeve me alone!"

It's a bad morning; watch out world.

But then Daddy leaves and the only person left to torture is Mommy. So she tries to make things better by taking you to the "slurpee store." (She's easy.)

You want to go and you can't let her know that, so you cover your eyes for the picture:


You're good at the store because you know she won't bring you back if you're bad. (She may be easy, but she's not stupid.)








When you get home, you decide to drive your car; but you can't look like you're having too much fun so you frown and pout:











Eventually, you succumb to the pure joy of the wind blowing through your hair (or at least hitting your helmet) and you let loose on the driveway:







Daddy gets home and it's time for a game of hoops, but you won't take off your helmet for fear he might put up the car. Basketball is just a momentary diversion:













After scoring the necessary number of points, you decide to go back to the car and the darn phone rings...can this day be any more irritating?!












Finally, after playing with Mom and Dad a good long time, and having their undivided attention, they take you to lunch. (This bad mood thing is really working for you!) You eat a huge bowl of pasta and are civil the whole meal. (Well, they did spring for lunch.)

Once you get back in the car to go home, you get to do what you've needed to do all morning:







Now you have officially proven what you've suspected all along...your parents are definitely slow learners.