Sunday, April 5, 2009

The Hellish Threes

Whoever coined the phrase "the terrible twos" had yet to have a three-year-old. Or they were smoking some serious crack.

Because one month into the threes, I'd gladly go back to two for another year.

The threes are obstinate. Threes are sneaky and wiley. Threes are also apparently deaf because the kiddo, he doesn't listen.

These are very trying times in our household. We're trying to give the kiddo the independence he wants/needs while still maintaining some sort of order. And making it out of the house in the mornings within an hour.

Almost everything turns into a mini war. What he wears for the day. What he eats for breakfast. What he drinks for breakfast, for that matter. What toy he takes along to daycare. Who puts him in the carseat. Who shuts his door. And Lord forbid we do something not exactly right. We either get a resounding NO! with accompanying pouting lower lip or we get scrunched eyes, fat tears and a wail that would make a great ambulance sound effect.

The kiddo requested Zaccheus as one of his bedtime songs tonight and kept correcting the hub that it wasn't Za-KEY-us as both the hub and I had learned, it was ZA-key-us. Whatever, kid. It was the hub's battle to wage tonight, I had kidlet bedtime duty, per usual.

But, there are the occasional breaks in the storm clouds of three-dom where the kiddo is just the funniest, goofiest, smartest boy. He's "reading" books to us completely from memory; books we've only read to him once or twice. He's helpful and considerate and free with the hugs and kisses. He's a joy and a love. We only have to survive 11 more months. Certainly the fours are better, right? Please tell me they're better. And if they're not, Lie.

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