Boss of an Incompetent Employee

from the perspective of my first born almost two year old daughter

02–21–2024

Starting the work day off first thing in the morning, I am already having to repeat myself to make sure I make myself heard.

“MOMMY. MAAWWWMEEEE. MOM. MAMA. MAAAMAAA.”

This is just the beginning. I often have to repeat myself many, many times to get what I want. You just can’t get good help these days.

FINALLY. There she is, opening the door to get me out of bed.

“POOP. POOPY DIAPER. POOP.”

I think she is starting to get the picture. She takes me to the changing table (depending on the day- I have to give her directions on where to go to change me too) and takes off my soiled diaper and dresses me for the day.

It has been at least five minutes since she got me out of bed. Can’t she see that I am STARVING???!

“OATMEAL. OATMEEEEEEAL. OATMEAL.

MILK. MILK MILK MILK MILK. MIIIILLLLLLLKKKK.”

“HEAT IT UP. OATMEAL.

MILK.”

“UP. UP UP UP UP UP UP. MOMMEE HOLD YOU”

It really is quite the process. It takes her an entire minute to put the oatmeal in the microwave and heat it up. Then it’s too hot, so she has to pour milk in it and blow on it to cool it down enough to eat. By this time I could have died from starvation, she still has to go to the fridge to get my sippy cup of milk out. At her quarterly review I am definitely going to need to provide some constructive criticism on timeliness and being prompt about breakfast. It is the most important meal of the day you know. We can’t have our work day starting out like this every day. And now my baby brother is crying. Great. His timing is impeccable. Can’t he see that I need My breakfast First?? It looks like once again I am going to have to repeat myself to get what I want done.

OATMEAL. MAMA HELP EAT OATMEAL.

Someday she will figure it out. She probably didn’t get enough time in orientation to be competent with these basic tasks yet. Maybe next time we can hire someone with more experience.

We finally get enough food in me to make it for a couple hours. But wow what a mess. “MESSY HANDS. MESSY. HANDS.” It takes her wayyy too long to get a cloth to clean my hands and face after she finishes nursing my brother. “OUT. DOWN” But eventually she does release me from the high chair restraints so I can proceed with my very important tasks. You can’t be late to play with toys right? I don’t want to let her tardiness slow me down with my important to do list.

Oh no. What is she trying to do now? Potty break, really? Of all the times, I need to start playing with toys! Or coloring! Why does she need to insist on taking time for silly things like urinating and defecating? Oh, what was that? I get a treat if I pee. I guess that is a reasonable thing to digress from playing toys for.

“PEE. PEE IN POTTY. TREAT. TREEEEEAT.”

After providing the requisite chocolate chip following successfully urinating in the potty. I am FINALLY free to move on with my day.

It is good to see all my little people and stuffed animals after a long night away. Pretty soon I am ready to get out into the world and explore.

I march to the door, put my boots on (the wrong feet- what does that even mean anyways? How can feet be right or wrong?) and announce my intentions.

“OUTSIDE. OUT. SIDE. OUTSIDE.”

It only takes about 15 hours (or was it minutes) of me pulling on the door handle before she gets her shoes and coat on, brother dressed in his snuggle suit and in the baby carrier, before she gets my coat on and we go on a walk. Or bike ride. Depending on what I am feeling. Sometimes I start on my bike but decide arbitrarily, often the farthest point away from our apartment, that I don’t feel like riding anymore and drop my bike.

“Mama carry it.”

This usually results in a tense negotiation.

You can carry your bike, or ride it, or push it.

“Mama carry bike”

I am carrying your brother. You can carry your bike, or ride it, or push it.

“Mama carry baby and bike.”

You need to ride your bike or push it.

Sometimes I win, sometimes she wins. It is exhausting having to expend so many words to get your way you know. Still have some training to do on how she needs to be able to carry everything I don’t want anymore. Whether it be my bike or the various items of clothing I shed along our walk: coat, hat, gloves, glasses. Shoes and socks. She insists that I wear a shirt and pants outside, but I really don’t understand why. The dogs go out without clothes on. Why do I have to wear clothes? Usually by the end of the day I can wear her down enough that she doesn’t fight me when I remove every stitch of clothing and run around the house naked until Dad comes home.

Some variation of this repeats throughout the work day.

“RAISINS. NUTS. RASINSNUTS. RAISINS. NUTS. RAAAAIIIISIIINNSSSSNUTS.”

“YOGURT. YOOOOGUUURT. YOGURT.”

“MILK. MIILLKK. MILK.”

At snack time.

“SANDWICH. SAANDWICH. SANDWICH.”

At lunch time.

“BANANA. BA.NA.NA. BAAANANA. BANANA.”

Whenever I feel hungry.

“CHEERIOS. CHEEEEERIOS. CHEERIOS. “

I often resent the potty breaks. But I don’t mind the treat afterward. She is usually right about when I have to go.

I have to help her with a lot of tasks. You would think she could do them on her own by now, but she seems to need my help every time. Maybe someday she will be more independent. For now, I suppose I can provide assistance when she asks. Basic, everyday tasks that are part of her work day like laundry, dishes, and cleaning. She even has me accompany her to the bathroom. Sometimes I think it’s an excuse to have me go, or to keep me away from my brother. I only dragged him across the room that one time…

I also have to remind her of the most important part of the work day when she gets caught up in more menial tasks like chores.

“PLAY.”

“PLAAAAYYYYYY.

PLAY”

“MAMA PLAY WITH ME”

Somehow, it seems every day we get through another day with the most important things mostly getting done.

For some reason it seems like she gets more tired as the day goes on. I am just getting ready to have my peak burst of energy right around the time she says it’s time to get ready for bed. What a silly plan in schedule. I have to remind her after she puts my pajamas on.

“BRUSH TEETH. BRUSH. TEETH. BRUSH TEEEETH.” Before I scamper off to the bathroom and climb up the stool. She always wants to take her turn first, then she lets me have a turn.

We read a book, pray, and she tucks me in.

I wonder if she will be any more competent as an employee tomorrow.

If not, I still don’t mind training her until she is.