Why We Call Our Toddler “The Devastator”

**Warning – if your a dad, stop reading now. If your husband is in the room, don’t let him read this.**

We were happily playing the laundry-basket-car-game. See? So much fun (except our infant looks like someone scared the bejeebies out of him)..

..so we stand them up, happily playing, but lil’ man wants daddy, so hubby snags him..

..and I sneak in for the shot, only blinding my husband, whoops (the baby is immune to my sneak attacks)…

..our toddler then sneaks in for an attack of her own, giving daddy a toddler-style smooshin’ (you know, in the way that makes men make silly, squeaky sounds in pain), causing my husband to sing tenor in his own opera..

..prompting me to crumple to the ground in hysterics, snapping this picture of my toddler, wondering what her mother is doing on the ground, laughing uncontrollably…

..while dad attempts to recover from his injuries, our infant son clueless as to what is happening..

..hubby laying his head back, thinking if he rested a while, that he was going to be okay, but oh no… not so much.. our toddler wasn’t done with him yet…

..she pretends to feign sympathy, but really pulls out her finishing move, her punishing ‘hair-pull’, sealing daddy’s fate into submitting the toddler reigns supreme (all while baby-man inspects daddy’s Steeler’s watch).

It’s all fun and games until daddy gets smooshed.

Final score – Toddler 3, Daddy 0.

I guess it’s a good thing she’s cute, huh?

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