If this two-year-old crap goes on for too much longer, I have a feeling that someone living in this house (probably me) might not make it out alive. W is driving me absolutely nuts. When he has nights like tonight, I want nothing more than to stab someone (again, probably me).
It doesn't help when B completely loses his shit and needs to leave the house, abandoning me with a screaming baby and a screaming, flailing toddler, so that he doesn't do something stupid.
Like stabbing someone.
Because even when I feel stabby, my stay-the-hell-out-of-prison instinct is much stronger than the stabby instinct. Sometimes I worry that B doesn't quite have that same balance.
Thankfully, the little demons are in bed now, so I've got a few moments to breathe. And I'm happy to report that no one sustained any puncture wounds this evening.