God said, “I need somebody willing to get up before dawn, cry for milk, run around the house all day, cry for milk again, not eat their supper and then lay in bed past midnight asking for a glass of water.” So God made a toddler.
God Said, “I need somebody willing to stay up all night crying and throwing up. Just to throw up all the next day. Then wipe their eyes and say, “I just want to cuddle, Mommy.” I need somebody who can play hide-and-go-seek, scream at the top of their lungs, who can make a car out of a cardboard box, pretend to be a princess and give the best hugs. And who, everyday, will fight with everything in them to not take a nap, only to fall asleep in their high chair at the dinner table covered in spaghetti.” So God made a toddler.
God had to have somebody willing to have an attitude that requires timeouts and yells “No!” all the time, yet sweet enough to make you melt the moment they fall into your arms, who will stop in the middle of play time just to tell you they love you. It had to be somebody who’d sneak candy and always try to sweet talk for more. Somebody to cry, laugh, scream, cry and giggle and roll around on the floor all in one day and who would run into your arms when they see you coming a mile away.
“Somebody who’d bring a family together with their chubby cheeks and dimpled hands, who would laugh and then cuddle, with those precious, sparkling eyes, saying that they want to be your best friend forever.” So God made a toddler.