When you move a two year old to a big girl bed, be sure to include the strait jacket. Or at least a 6 foot metal gate complete with barb wire.
You'll need the metal gate during the night when the little cutie pie wakes up at 3am to go potty. And you take her. We're not denying any rights around here. And then when she asks 20 minutes later, you take her, because you want her to learn that you will take her in the middle of the night because she needs to go. The whole "you can count on me" emotional thing. Around the 6th time,you stop taking her. Because not even a hummingbird, who has a bladder the size of an ant, needs to pee that much. You lay her in bed and go back to sleep. The sweet sound of Mickey Mouse singing "Zippety do dah" at 4:30 in the morning is enough to make a girl want to do a maternity test. Yeah, Maternity. Because she knows, for certain that NO WAY would TWO of her precious offspring would be out of bed, lying on the floor, with books and barbies, feet on the wall, light on, music blaring, Mickey gettin down with his high falsetto self, at yes, 4:30 in the morning. ON A SUNDAY.
That's when the barb wire and straight jackets are handy.
When you decide to do laundry, because being naked is considered illegal, in public anyways, always hire a babysitter. T.V. has low rates and she does a decent job. Never trust the two year old to amuse themselves. Because they will basically give Fisher-Price the finger, and find a much more colorful way to amuse themselves. Don't be shocked when you go into the kitchen, and see blue... not red. That's right. Crayola washable paints, blue and white paint poured in a little whale bowl. And smeared like Picasso himself was there, and your kitchen is the canvas. From the cabinets, to the stool, to the dishwasher, to the island, to the sink, to the floor. It's really bad when you don't know what kills you more, the kitchen looking like someone massacred Cookie Monster, or the BRAND NEW NEVER BEEN WORN GYMBOREE zebra dress that little miss Pebbles has now turned a lovely shade of blue. You'll contemplate becoming a nun. Trust me.
When in doubt, the T.V. can be the best babysitter you ever had.
If, for some reasons, you notice the toilet acting wonky, for awhile, build an outhouse in the backyard. Just in case. The two year old will always deny any potty wrong doings. You can go ahead and snake the toilet. Do it yourself. Buy or rent a snake. It'll work better, until your 6 year old faxes the president (Don't ask, that's what we have always called it in my house growing up, I told you we are weird like that. Other kids fluffed when they farted and pooped, we "heard storms coming cuz listen for the thunder" and "faxed the president". shameless I tell ya)
After said faxing, and screams, you will find overflow. Of the disgusting sort. This will lead you to, on a different day and a bath of bleach later, to take the toilet off. In it, you will find that damn Diego, bottoms up, in the toilet hole. Not only does he and his anoying cousing Dora repeat themselves, but he clogs up your toilet. He has since been sent to a far away land of Landfill.
If you had an outhouse, none of this could happen.
After a weekend of toddler shenanagins, and you start breathing easy, and think the two yearold is cute, open the bathroom door first. And slide right into a entire bottle of dumped out Sweet Pea lotion. Almost breaking your neck never smelled so good.
This was all in a 24 hour time period.