mornings with a two year old

as i sit here and write this, marlo is walking around the apartment sans diaper and wearing little else. she's refused clothing this morning and as i've attempted to explain to her that we can't go outside unless we're appropriately dressed, she repeatedly interrupts me and asks for schips (plantain chips). this was our morning:

blah blah blah. schips. 
blah blah blah, marlo, blah. schips. 
blah... schips. chips? schips.

okay. so she's the rain man. 

with no diaper in sight, she takes a seat on our sofa and begins to strum her ukulele. it's not the most beautiful sound. i contemplate lessons. or hiding it. and i then regret buying it.  

strum-bang-bam-ding-dang-dong.

she jumps down from the sofa.
thank god, no more ukulele.

uh-oh. 

she's peeing on the floor. 

taking a deep breath and a long swig of coffee before addressing my genetic spawn offspring. 

marlo, you can't pee on the floor. this is why you need to put on a diaper. 

schips?

do you want to sit on the potty? 

nawwwwwww.

then you need to wear a diaper. 

schips. 

marlo, please put on a diaper. 

noooooope.

i resort to bribery. 

marlo, if you put on a diaper, you may have some chips. 

no schips. 

as i begin to clean up the pee, marlo climbs up to stand on the window frame and greets the building across from us completely naked. if i were our neighbors, i'd hate us. and i'd question the job i'm doing as a parent.

she turns around to stare at me. 

woe-zshen? (frozen.) 

dear god. not again. 

marlo ignores my disgust and climbs down from the window and disappears a few moments later. 

i hear water running. in the bathroom. 

i sit in stillness for a few moments and drink the rest of my coffee, terrified to stumble upon whatever mess she is currently in the process of making. 

i hear a few grunts. 

i know what this means. 

marlo's shitting on the floor.

uh oooooh. 

yes, marlo. uh oh. 

it's time to potty train, i think.