I get it. I do.
He’s three, so he’s supposed to drive me insane. He’s turning four soon, so this will all change. Right? RIGHT? [Please lie to me if necessary.]
It’s just . . . I thought it was supposed to be the Terrible TWOs, not the Terrible THREEs.
Because three has been awful. There are good things about three. He can communicate when and what things hurt. He can ask for drinks, food, and toys. He can read already, which . . . you guys? He’s three and he can read. This is simultaneously awesome and terrifying. He’s potty trained. He dutifully makes his bed every morning. He only sometimes argues about going to bed [usually when he’s over tired and doesn’t think he needs to go to sleep].
But the defiance? It’s ridiculous. And he totally likes his Pop more than me most days. M swears it’s because he spends so much time with me right now and once I get back to work it will be different. Both of the boys are bigger fans of Pop when he gets home, to be honest.
Butter is really a sweet kid. He’s sensitive and loving and loves to give hugs and cuddles.
Annnd I think I just talked myself out of despising three.
Three’s a good age. I can’t wait to see what four will bring, because he turns four in a month. OMG.