And like a flash...

Mak, my once joy-filled baby, has now become my joy-filled Antilla the Hun. He is bent on taking me down, piece by piece, drawer by drawer, bit by bit of dog food, inch by inch of dirt eating.

And, as of Tuesday, he has waged serious war on me in public. It seems as if a battle becomes a full-on war once it's made public. Well, Mak sent his flare high into the air on Tuesday.

The Stage: My friend, Deb's house, lunchtime, roughly 13 kids running around playing while the mommies get lunch ready

Scene 1: The flash

Me: "Oh, my gosh, Deb. Where's Mak...? Anyone seen Mak? MAAAAKKKKK? MAAAAKKKK? Oh, Deb, he really likes stairs..."

Deb moves into hallway toward foyer with quick agility. Like a flash, a white Michelin Man runs across the foyer. No wait, it's not a Michelin Man, it's a midget. No wait, not a midget, it's a little boy. It's my boy. It's Mak. Covered and rolled, around both arms, head, and torso, in about 25 feet of toilet paper. And wet. From the toilet water.

Deb and I enter the bathroom, Mak is in my hands, squirming, arching his back, wanting down for another go at the toilet paper roll. The bathroom floor is completely covered in the remainder of the roll of paper.

Me: "Oh, Deb, I'm so sorry. So sorry. I'm so sorry..."
Deb: (laughing) "Oh, Mary, I have kids it's ok... Oh, wait, I think he got into the toilet because it's soaked in here."

I go to wash his hands and he is so upset at the prospect of being cleaned that he just lays his head on the counter as I scrub his fat little fingers and arms.


The Stage: around the kitchen table, six moms sitting in kitchen chairs talking as the kids play. Rachel is sitting in a chair next to mine, holding her sleeping seven-week old baby.

Scene 2: the banger

Me: (holding Mak on my arms because I no longer trust him) "Look, Makie, a baby. See? Baby."
Mak: "baby.... baby...."
Me: "Yes, Mak. Baby? See? The baaa-bbyyyy."

Mak arches his back, and at this point, I'm tired. I put him down. I'm going to watch the hallway heading to the bathroom with the skill of a bald eagle.

Mak walks around the back of Rachel's chair, turns to face the top of her sleeping baby's head, and hits the baby on the head as hard as he can while saying "NO".

Me: "Oh, Mak, NO. NO HIT."
Mak: "NO."
Rachel: "Oh, my gosh, Mak just hit my baby. Hard. I felt it. Do you think he hurt him? Oh, my gosh - he just hit my baby!"
Mak: "NO."
Me: "Rachel, I'm so sorry. So sorry. So, so sorry. Mak, NO HIT."
Mak: "NO."
Rachel: "I mean, do you think he hurt him? Mak hit him really, really hard."
Deb: "No, Rach, I really think he's ok. He didn't even cry."
Me: "Rachel, I'm so, so sorry."
Mak: "No."

The Stage: lunch, around the kitchen table, Mak sitting strapped into a booster seat and eating his lunch.

Scene: the wiper

Mak: "OOOHHHHH."
Me: "Here, Mak, bite. Open wide. Bite."
Mak: "No."
Me: "Mak, no. Do not throw the food."
Mak: (doing something underneath the edge of the table) "Oooohh."
Me: "Look, Megan! He's eating all his food! Good boy, Mak. Yay! Food all gone!"

I pull chair away from table. Reach to unstrap Mak from chair and realize that he's wiped all of his strawberries, mac 'n cheese, crackers, and watermelon on his crotch and feet. I remove him and take him over to the sink where I proceed to wash his feet, reassuring Deb that I won't let him run around her house this caked in food. I set him down, and watch as pieces of mac 'n cheese fall out of the leg of his shorts as he proceeds to walk across Deb's kitchen.


It's full-on war. If this kid has no qualms about playing in someone else's toilet, he'll have no qualms with eating someone else's garbage. He also sees innocent, defenseless babies as prey. Reminder to self: 1) don't have another baby right now; 2) watch Mak around garbage cans in other people's homes; and 3) find and purchase kid-sized, kid-safe leash to strap on Mak.