Fin

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It is simple to count the amount of F&%$’s this child gives about anything and everything. As long as you can count to none.

The Fin. Not just because her middle name is Finley but also because she’s it. The end. The last of the many many children, the final loop in the family chain. The embodiment of finality.

She rarely speaks and even less often listens. We can’t decide if she’s autistic or just an a$%#@!& because it could really go either way. The doctor is leaning towards the former but I live with the kid and am not entirely convinced its not the latter.

I know what you’re thinking. I shouldn’t be calling my two year old an a$%#@!& and my only response is “Shut up Sharon! This is why nobody likes you.”

As I typed this the Fin dumped a bag of popcorn and kernels in the general direction of a paper plate……. but at two feet away they mostly fell all over the table and floor. She made eye contact and was clearly sending a message. I should have named her Karma.

That’s what this is right? Karma? This may come as a shock but I haven’t always been a kind and gentle soul. In fact I have literally never even one time been a kind and gentle soul so the Universe has decided to teach me patience by fire.

Anyone want large crayon circles on their hardwood? Because while I was cleaning up popcorn The Fin was busy demonstrating that this is exactly the kind of service she can provide with a smile. “There ya go.” Was the start and finish of her fine art presentation. It’s one of the few things she can/will say and she always saves it up for maximum burn. “There ya go.” She’ll say after dropping your toothbrush in the toilet.

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“What do you want?” Is her other common saying. “What do you want?” She’ll suddenly loudly announce and then drag you by hand to the food pantry because apparently what you want, but clearly don’t realize you want, is to give her a fruit snack.

Pray to whatever higher being you have devoted yourself to that fruit snack is the answer because if its not and sometimes it isn’t you are F&%$’d. The Fin does not say “yes” ever. Not a yes and nothing that resembles anything affirmative. She does say “no” but it’s really not that simple. Because a no is accompanied by the shrieking of a choir of offkey banshees. Always. Here’s how the Game is played.

What Do You Want Round 1: The contestants enter the pantry.

The Fin: What do you want?

Me: grabs a fruit snack and offers it

The Fin: Sound erupts. It is similar to a thousand banjo being gyrated against the asses of a thousand baboons who are all standing to close to an amp.

What do you want Round 2: This is a speed round. All rounds after round 1 are a speed round and are blended together.

The Fin: WHAAAAAAAAT DOOOOOOOO YOUUUU WAAAAAAAAAAAAANT? This is said loud. Really really f’ing loud infused with sadness level: 11teen billion furry little orphan puppies all sentenced to die.

Me: grabs the cereal box, the granola bars, a can of soup, half a loaf of bread, raw spaghetti noodles, instant potatoes, a protein bar

The Fin: Nooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Me: grabs two fruit snacks and a jar of honey.

The Fin: Accepts jar of honey and silently walks away.

I know! This tiny little person should not be allowed a jar of honey. A jar of honey is only a weapon of mass destruction in the arms of a two year old but dammit Sharon I just need a half second of quiet to regroup. Once the blood of my eardrums has pooled enough to muffle sound I will take back the jar of honey. But just the jar of honey. My dignity is forever gone. Cause I will beg. Again.

Vocal assaults are not her only weapon. The most formidable component of her arsenal is the cuteness. This kid is cute. Really really adorably cute. Just when I want to punt her over the fence she will whip out the cute. Game Over. Like just now we played ‘What do you want the beverage edition’ we are out of juice. The gods however are most favorable this morning because there was no screaming. She just calmly pointed at the beer as a suggestion. Peer pressure to day drink from a two year old is hilarious and tempting and adorable and sad all at the same time.

Despite the chaos and the mess and the nearly round the clock trying of my patience I love this bizarre little demon. I am prepared for her. She has five older siblings who have been choosing to not listen to me for so long that a child who can’t listen to me is surprisingly manageable.

She can continue to demonstrate her art on the railing and the floor and the wall. She can pick all my vegetables and fruit long before they have had a chance to ripen. She can continue to share her crackers by shoving them forcefully and unexpectedly into my mouth while I’m talking. After she has moistened them by sucking all the flavor off. She can do all these things and I’ll love it because she still holds my hand when we go for walks and anytime something is scary. I know from experience that phase doesn’t last long enough and it’s my favorite.

These are the final years of all the chaos and mess that come from a tiny little adorable person because she is the Fin.

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