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toddler

As most of you know, both of my babies . Sequel more so than Piggle, but they were both over-achievers. Piggle was born at 35 weeks. The doctors told me it was due to an incompetent cervix, but if you’ve ever seen the boy’s head, you’d know that it was actually my vagina going into self-preservation mode! Seriously, people! 56 stitches, inside and out! I don’t ever want to know what kind of damage I’d have taken had he been on time!

Why, you ask, am I talking about my franken-bits?! How could that be of any interest to you?

Because hats.

Do you even know how impossible it has been to find a hat that fits on this boy’s head?! Nearly. Sure I could have put him in an adult-sized hat, but he’d have looked like an idiot. The bill (beak?..what ever the hell it’s called) on those are gigantic!

During the summer months, I’ve had to slap a ton of sunscreen on Piggle’s head, and if you follow us on , you’d know that I refuse to cut his hair, so you can only imagine how much sunscreen it took/the mess…not to mention how absolutely fucking ridiculous he looked.

To give you an idea, this was Piggle 2 summers ago (note the gigantic head)

His hair is now triple the length, so sunscreen is no longer an option—not that it matters now because it’s freezing cold here, and the sun hasn’t come out in 3 months (I may be exaggerating a bit). Regardless, I wanted to find something for him that he can wear now—and may (fingers crossed) fit him next summer.

A few weeks ago, I got miserably lost on  (I still haven’t gotten the hang of it!). It was then that I came across . They had my solution!

They’re a mom & dad duo who also had abnormal-headed kids—-that, or maybe hats in general are just fucked. Either way, they created some killer hats that are made specifically to fit little ones. Maybe it’s the way they’re designed, using a better-suited-to-kid-melons shape…or maybe it’s magic. Whatever it is, the hats fit—well, kind of.

They offer 3 sizes: Little, Big, and Youth. Wouldn’t you know it, Piggle’s gigantor head fits into the youth size—which is meant for 5 year olds!!! Now do you feel bad for my hoo-haw? Because you should!

These are the cutest hats ever. There is literally nothing more adorable than a little boy (or girl) in a trucker hat! Piggle’s long hair makes him look like a pint-sized skater boy! Hang onto your hearts, ladies!

This particular hat was a size too small, but for a normal two-year old, it’d fit beautifully (we have the Youth-size on the way, and I’ll update when it gets here). It is perfect! It is exactly like the adult versions you see everywhere.

The stitching is nice and strong, the beak/bill is sturdy, and it’s mega-cute.

Piggle is obsessed with it. He wears it everywhere—though I couldn’t get too many photos because we’re still only naked-potty trained, so I avoid nude-Piggle shots.

Even though it doesn’t quite fit his head, he carries it around with him. He loves it!

He looks like a little hipster!

I absolutely LOVE !

I’m absolutely thrilled that I was able to find a kid’s hat that fits the boy! It’s about damn time someone came up with something like this!

Piggle and I are big fans!

Little Fit has offered up a hat to one lucky reader, too! Using the form below, enter for your chance to win one for your little (or big)-headed babe!

*I received this hat free of charge to facilitate my review. As always, my opinions are 102% honest!

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When I was pregnant with Sequel, poor Piggle was a bit neglected. I had no energy and a host of doctors telling me to park my ass on the couch. I couldn’t play with him the way he wanted—and more importantly, needed. I still feel incredibly guilty for that. Our relationship suffered drastically because of it. Even now, I still notice a bit of withdrawal, and he asks me to play with him less and less. It’s heartbreaking.

Because of this, I decided to have Piggle dates once a week. One day that is all about him! Of course, Sequel still tags along, but we do something HE loves. We usually try to do it on Husband’s day off because we’re able to give Piggle complete one-on-one attention. Unless Sequel is eating, she’s Husband’s responsibility, while I lay some lovin’s on my boy!

The other day, we took Piggle to a play place, designed specifically for young children. Luckily, we went while every other kid on Earth was napping, so we had the run of the place. We also had the added bonus of not tainting some poor kid with Piggle’s potty mouth! Seriously, this kid is worse than a sailor! Of course, I am to blame.

If you’ve followed me long enough, you know that ‘fuck’ is my favorite word. I use it liberally. I really need to start watching what I say, though because Mr. Parrot likes to repeat my expletives back in the most undesirable situations—like an indoor playground. Problem is, I’m having a hard time keeping him from uttering cuss words because, well, it’s fucking hilarious! Call it what you will: bad parenting, mom-fail…regardless, I dare you not to laugh!

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I mentioned a week ago that Piggle is giving the

his all. We’ve had some good days here and there, but all in all, our house is a war zone. I also confessed to aggravating the issue by having an awful temper, and promised to try curbing my yelling. Over the past week, I have yelled. A lot. BUT! It was nowhere near what it was prior to making my promise. I think there were only two really bad days in total. I’ve noticed a huge improvement in Piggle’s attitude since I’ve stopped flipping my shit as much. He responds better to direction, is less grouchy all around, and hasn’t acted out nearly as much as he usually does.

I still feel guilty for having broken my promise—especially the other day when I absolutely lost it on him for beating Sequel around the head with a teether. That night, I broke down crying because it really was a shitty day. That said, I am really proud of myself for the little progress I did achieve, and I am hell-bent on improving myself further! It actually wasn’t as hard as I thought it’d be. It really helped to have that little voice in the back of my mind to remind me to keep calm.

The Terrible Twos actually aren’t all bad. Piggle has never really been a shy kid (I wonder where he got that from…), but he had a tendency to just follow along with whatever was going on around him. While that was great when he was a baby, I worried that he’d wind up being the kid who got picked on or worse, become such a follower that he started high school with his face in a bowl of cocaine. Okay, so I know that is highly improbable because let’s face it, cocaine is too expensive, but I did worry about his ability to assert himself. Well, I’m not worried about it anymore. In fact, I’m actually kind of scared of him.

Instead of fretting over him being the dorky kid who gets picked on, I am now picturing him beating the snot out of some poor soul for his lunch money. Piggle is a bully! It’s probably a normal phase, but holy hell! His mouth is either going to make him millions or get him punched. I’ve never met a bossier kid, and even I sometimes cower under his demands!

“No, Mommy! Don’t say that to me!”

“No, Mommy! Stop singing!” (can’t really blame him for that one—I sound like a dying cat)

“Mommy, sit down and don’t move!”

“It’s mine! I don’t share!”

and the worst example (and entirely my fault):

“For fuck sakes! God damn it, Mommy. Go to your room! ONE…TWO…THREE!”

Those are just a few of the things that come flying out of his mouth on a regular basis. And Jesus help anyone who doesn’t listen to him the first time! He’s a fucking tyrant!

The thing is, I don’t hate it. I find it hilarious. Particularly because it is very hard to take an order seriously when it is being squeaked at you in a baby voice! Of course, when I laugh, I get a time-out, so I’m learning very quickly to hide my giggles.

I still want to toss him out a window when he throws a tantrum, but at least we still have something to laugh about! It makes it easier to not yell because it’s almost impossible to scream and howl with laughter at the same time (in my case, it ends with me peeing my pants, but that’s a constant occurrence for me anyway).

What’s the craziest demand your child has made?

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