Yes, people lie. This terrible two thing? It's bullshit. I call foul. Two was kind of awesome for both of my kids. Three however? It's an effing NIGHTMARE. Tantrums. TANTRUMS. Capitol letter tantrums. Kicking, screaming, I AM THE BOSS tantrums. They are awful. It's the age of "fine, ride to school naked because you refuse to get dressed what-do-I-care tantrums". Literally. BOTH of my children have marched into school in their skivvies because they refused to accept any form of clothing. Granted, as soon as I punched my magic code in to open the school doors, they were blissfully silent and accepting being dressed. Fine. Bottom line, they were at school and clothed. When I took J for his three year well visit, you had to answer a bunch of questions- "Are you concerned with your child's behavior?" Are you worried about his interactions with others?" Um, yeah, he's three. I may or may not have caused my pedi to pee himself.
Today Mr. J, the lovely, sweet, child, well, until his third birthday on Monday, threw several epic tantrums. The first? Over a display for "How to Train Your Dragon 2" in Target. He wanted the dragon. Not the movie, the damn dragon. On the cardboard. On the display. Which isn't for sale. Yeah, well... that didn't work for anything. Thankfully, my Target has a Starbucks, so I sipped my lovely holiday espresso in the parking lot in 30 degree weather while my three year old screamed bloody murder in the car. Wouldn't sit in the car seat. Wouldn't do ANYTHING but scream. Luckily I was in the mommy parking aisle, apparently. Seasoned moms smiled conspiratorially when I said "three". New moms clutched their sweet infants and looked away. Eventually Mr. Cranky saw a sticky hair comb and was suddenly consumed with getting home to wash it. Phew.
Then, there was the market. Not so pretty there. I love Wegman's, but they have entirely too few car carts. As I held my writhing, sobbing three year old the kind cart attendant searched the lot- to no avail. Needless to say, we left the store with yogurt, a chicken, and wine. I drove home to wails of "IWANTTHECARCARTWHEREOHWHEREISTHECARCART!". I spoke with the manager as I was leaving, nearly in tears, and explained that I would have gladly given them all of my money if they had just had an effing car cart! He informed me that they had SIX! It was all I could do to respond in a rational voice and say "Have you seen the MOBS of people in your store? Six doesn't cut it, buddy. Get on it." I was a smidge mean, perhaps, because I got a personal follow up call about an hour later, and a reassurance that more "family carts" were ordered (I am pretty well known at the local Wegman's- just sayin').
Now? Now Mr. Three is fast asleep. He begged to go to bed, and as hard as I tried, you just can't refuse a naked three year old running as fast as his stubby legs will take him, to bed. With shouts of "you poopyhead!" he threw himself onto the bed and was asleep within moments.
Clearly, three year olds aren't stupid. They have SOME self preservation skills.
