Threenager Tornado

I had the best day ever yesterday . . . Well maybe not the best but the most productive day I've had in years. The Giant Baby was at daycare and the Giant Husband had stayed home sick with an upset stomach, so I took full advantage and made him look after Tiny all day.
I got the usual stuff done, washing dishes and sterilising bottles and three loads of washing. But I also managed to box up my Helen Kish dolls for temporary storage, clean and vacuum the lounge room, clean and vacuum Tiny's room, clean and vacuum the Giant Baby's room, vacuumed the rest of the house, took some old toys to the op shop, went to the shops to buy myself new socks and a new dress to wear to a funeral, got photos of the kids printed to send to my mum, bought Tiny a Christmas stocking, and wrapped all of the kids Christmas presents and bagged up some old baby  clothes to go to the op shop another day! Then I topped it all off by spending three hours tidying, sorting and reorganising the Giant Baby's toys and books!
THEN the Giant Baby came home. We decided to have an easy (lazy) dinner. The Giant Baby had some chicken noodle soup and toast. We played with his LOL Surprise dolls for a little while, then he came outside with me and voluntarily tidied up our large balcony while I got the washing off the line.
So far it had been an amazingly productive day. For once I wasn't ending the day stressed about all the things I hadn't had time to do. For contrast, they're ALL home today and so far it's taken me TWO HOURS to write this post because everybody needs me, or is climbing on me, or needs someone to stop them from jumping off the back of the couch onto the baby.
But then it went pear shaped. Three hours I had spent on the Giant Baby's toys! THREE HOURS! And at six o'clock I told the Giant Baby I had to get myself some dinner before I could play with him again. He said "No! You had dinner yesterday!" I countered that I intended on eating dinner every day. And he countered by doing this . . .

I could go on and tell you how he threw a fit about the mess being cleaned up, and again over going to bed, or that ten minutes after I got Tiny down for the night the Giant Husband woke her up and it took two hours to get her back to sleep, or the vomit the dog did on the carpet once we were all sleeping, or that the Giant Baby woke everyone up screaming at one am because he couldn't find the light switch in the toilet, or that that made me step in the dog's vomit, wearing socks. . . But the toy mess is depressing enough.