We've reached that fun toddler stage where Q wants to share, by which I mean he wants to take whatever he's eating, often after he's tasted it, and shove it in your mouth.
Babies? GROSS.
Even better, he wants to share his gooey handsful of gluteny cracker death, so I am becoming adept at sleight of hand to palm the offering while distracting him with over exaggerated "YUM YUMS!" so he won't be utterly offended that I am spurning his generosity.
He's totally buying it, but I fear not for long - we've had him totally convinced that bedtime was the best time of the day EVAR until two days ago, when we did our usual, "Q, what time is it? BEDTIME YAY!" routine, and instead of the usual big smile and victory arms, we got a sullen, "No."
I say he's practicing for two, and then everyone assures me that two isn't that bad, it's three you have to watch out for. And then they say, "And oh, god, FOUR." And sometimes add, "But then there's five, and that's the worst." And bam, then you have puberty,and teenagers, and apparently kids are always at an awful stage until they turn 18 and you can at least demand they pay rent.