Terrible Twos into Testing Threes = Mixed-Up Mommy

Enter the Be Darling giveaway here.


When Bug was about 18 months old I thought the terrible twos kicked in. Some moms told me the twos are easy compared to the threes...it's just that no one talks about that.

Here we are snugly in the world of three and I now fully understand what those moms meant. Two had is moments but three seems to have its days and nights. Bug knows more words so I expected communication might be easier but so far that's not the case. Silly me I thought there would be a little bit of reasoning too. (I can hear you laughing...) He also communicates by hitting (luckily, at this point the biting seems to have halted).

Bug can't spend a whole day in time out. Well, actually, he could for the number of times he doesn't listen but that's not effective. It seems Bug has become his very own little version of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. I don't recall the details of the story so I don't remember if Jekyll had warning when Hyde would appear. In our play, which is showing daily nonstop, Mr. Hyde shows up at any time without warning. It might be worth a ticket if any of you miss these days or want to see a meltdown--mine or Bug's--it's often a surprise.

Here's a for instance...we went to the Natural History Museum over the weekend so Bug could see the dinosaurs. We didn't expect to be there long--just long enough for Bug to see a few things, feel like it was an adventure and leave. He had fun...remembered Curious George and Caillou go to the 'zeum, too, and thought it was great. Without prompting, he said hello to several security guards and told them to have a nice day.


As we were leaving, he lost it. Why? Not because he didn't want to go outside and see the snow that was coming down but because we left through the doors marked "EXIT" and not the same doors that we used to enter the museum. (Have I mentioned Bug likes order? He came in THOSE doors so he wants to leave through THOSE doors. That wasn't possible in this case because there are metal detectors and the security guards directed us to the other doors--you know, the ones marked EXIT.)

He screamed on the walk back to the car, which seemed much longer than only a block with the high-pitched vocals (side note: terrific parking spot on a Saturday in downtown DC! Woo hoo!). Many parents gave me smiles hiding their thoughts of "thank God it's not my kid this time."

I know people (parents and children) survive the threes. I've gone to Hallmark stores and seen the cards that say, "Touchdown, Home Run, Score...happy birthday, you're FOUR" and I've seen plenty of four-year-old kids and even older kids and realize they all were three once.

A week or so ago I have proof that Bug listened to something I said. I was in the kitchen and heard Donnie enter the TV room after Bug had confiscated the remote and screwed up the TV. Donnie said, "Dammit." Bug's response in his most serious tone, "Don't say dammit, Daddy. Mommy says that's not nice." A short-lived victory for the etiquette patrol.

Tell me about the days that are to come. You know...the ones about the fantastic fours, fabulous fives, super sixes, sensational sevens, etc. Just don't talk to me about the teen years. I can't think about those yet.