Being three. Holy shit. This was a tough age.
My kid would be so sweet one second and the next, had an attitude and looked at me like she was going to shoot lasers out of her eyes. I remember that it seemed impossible to make my 3 year-old happy.
It’s like me when I’m pms’ing and really want a snicker’s but all we have are peanut butter cups and I’m thinking fuck this, I want a snicker’s. That’s the attitude of a 3 year-old.
And the tantrums. Holy shit, the tantrums are epic. This is the age where vodka came into my life a little more frequently.
They really love to test the limits and figure out how to push your buttons.
But, there are the really cool things that balance it out. When they’re not throwing themselves on the ground screaming, they actually talk to where you can have conversations with them.
With my daughter and I, it was about poop because it made her laugh and my god, handling a 3 year-old is like handling a bomb so you love to hear a laugh from them. It’s much better than the ear-piercing screeching you have to deal with.
The hummingbird wasn’t a terror 24/7, like I’m making it sound. We got pretty lucky with her as she has a pretty even temperament. It could just feel like she was a devil on wheels through much of being three because when your kid acts like that, it feels like the moment is never-ending.
But then she would laugh at a poop joke and my sanity was restored for a short time.