Today is just not this guys day.

I fed him cereal for breakfast instead of doughnuts, and that made him cry.

I dressed him in something other than his favorite Paw Patrol shirt and that made him cry.

He wanted a Spiderman AND a Hulk toy at Target, but I said he could only get the Hulk, and that made him cry.

I wouldn't let him have Coke to drink at Chick- Fil- A and that made him cry.

When his sister got in the car at pick up, she leaned in for a kiss that he wanted no part of, and that made him cry.

When he got back home and realized my husband had charged the blue iPad instead of the black one, that made him cry...and cry... and cry some more. It was a lot of crying. And over the color of an iPad case no less!

He hasn't had a nap today, and that makes me want to cry, because we both could very much use the break.

Right now he is frustrated.

He is needy.

He is the epitome of 2 1/2.

In his little toddler mind, these things are in fact the end of the world. And I have to remember to be patient with him. To show him love, but remain firm in the decisions I am making for him. So often I am tempted to let him have his way, but I must remind myself that in doing so, I will be doing a disservice to him.

I don't want him to grow up expecting something when he's done nothing deserving. Participation does not equal accolades.

I cannot teach him the value of a dollar if I purchase every little thing his heart desires. I have to teach him about hard work and the pride that comes with spending the penny earned.

I cannot always agree with him, because there will be times where he is in the wrong, and I will need to put him in his place.

Life is not always fair, and he has to learn that now.

A wise woman once said to me, there's 3 types of "fair"...the county fair, the state fair, and the world fair. But there's no "life fair" where we get everything we want, just the way we want it. He's learning this life lesson right now.

Today has been a tough one for him. The crocodile tears have streamed, and the little lungs have wailed. I'm certain he'll go to bed early from the pure exhaustion of releasing his problems. A good cry always takes a lot of me, too.

I hope some day he understands that I have only ever had his best interest at heart. Many years from now, when he has precious children of his own, I hope he finds himself in the middle of Target during an intense toddler meltdown, feeling the heat of judging eyes zeroing in on his every move, and I hope he sees my face and hears my voice, and stands firm in his decision to tell that cherub faced toddler "no".

And then I hope he sends me flowers and a "Thank You" card.

Tomorrow will be better, buddy...I know it.