Why do I do it when I know I shouldn't?!?

Because I'm 2, that's why!

I love 2 year olds, their talkative ways, their little smirks, their 'I love you mommy's', their little bottoms. What I don't necessarily love is their lack of self control. But who am I to place the blame, when I have so little of it myself! I mean, how can I expect a little person, pretty new to the world and WHAT THINGS ARE, to understand that although dumping pancake mix all over the house is super fun and exciting, that it is not only wasteful and messy, but very expensive, and means that tomorrow morning said little person will be stomping and whining because she won't have blueberry 'panacakes' for breakfast. I've addressed this issue before (with the lip gloss in the carpet, as well as the foundation everywhere) but that was pretty much my fault for leaving it out. Oh, look at that. Add 'manipulative' to the cute 2 year old's repertoire of tricks. Because even though she went into my makeup, which she knows from repeated experience NOT to even touch, I blame it on myself for leaving it out. But the pancake mix was in the pantry, and after previous incidents it had a toddler lock on it! Apparently not good enough when someone doesn't close it back.

The other times she has done this, yes multiple times, I have had the same reaction. First, incredulity, because I can't believe that she's done it again. Second, annoyance (especially if I'm in a hurry, that's when it tends to happen). And lastly, I've fallen into complete histeria. Yes, I have to clean it up (this time, not only had she spilled the mix, but also her water... making pancake batter on my carpet, which hardens into concrete. I swear, if you need a new pathway outside, try it), but it's so funny. The funniest part is where she pours it. You can tell she put a lot of thought into it. The dog's water and food bowls (apparently he was hungry), her dollhouse, her kitchen, and then piles of it on the floor. I'm assuming she was making a beach scene. Oh, and our black dog was white with dust. That was how I knew she was doing something bad, I heard her evilly giggling and running around in the living room, which translates to: I'm torturing the dog, and having a wonderful time. Seriously. Everytime I've heard that laughter she is either pulling him by the collar trying to fit him into her doll stroller (he weighs 40 pounds), pouring contact solution on him (he needed a bath), or this time, pouring pancake mix on him.

You are probably thinking, if you've read this far, that I'm a terrible mom. But really, I try not to be. I lock dangerous stuff up, I even tried to lock the pantry. It always happens if she gets up in the morning without coming into our room first, or when I'm in the shower and Nick isn't home. Our apartment is so small and open, it's not like I can lock her in anywhere. And if I put a gate up at her door, not only does she scream like I'm killing her, but in about 2 seconds she has found something to climb up and over the gate. I'd rather walk out of the shower to pancake mix than a broken neck. I don't know what it is about pouring things on the carpet, but it's hilarious. My next house will be hardwood.