We had just gotten up, and the boys were shouting their
breakfast orders into the kitchen. Very
specific orders, without a side of appreciation, and I was getting
frustrated. Especially since, they have
the SAME thing for breakfast almost every day.
I mostly brushed them off, but took the time to remind them that I was
not a short order cook. I usually would
invite them into the kitchen to make their own breakfast, which they can’t.
Then they started requesting the specific cup they would
like their milk to be in. One wanted a
Dora cup, the other Spiderman. So I got
the milk in the two plainest cups they had.
Jackson collapsed onto the floor. His world had been crushed. When the boys are upset I will talk to them
in a somewhat shocked voice. “What? You seem angry. Can you tell me what’s wrong? Do you still want your milk?”
What followed was a 5 minute conversation with Jack. Well I conversed, he mostly just sobbed. (I need to find a better conversationalist) I
would ask if he wanted his milk. He
would say no. I would start to walk
away, and he would scream anew, because I was leaving with the milk. Each time I pretended I was more shocked and
confused then the time before.
“Jackson I don’t understand.
You said you didn't want it, so I was going to throw it out. Now you’re yelling at me more. Do you want this milk?”
“No!” I especially
loved how indignant he became after each question.
Post-toddlerdom is a tough spot to be. Everyone tells you how terrible the two’s
are. When your kid is two, everybody
takes it easy on you. You can tell
people how hard it is to care for your toddler, as he rolls on the floor at
Walmart.
Nobody has any sympathy for you if your kid is three. Now they are judging you. I mean your kid is three when are you going
to get control of him anyway???
At a year old, your child is still too dumb uniformed to know that
they have free will, and can make their own choices. By the time they reach 2 (Well 1.7 really)
they have realized that they no longer have to listen to everything you, as the
supreme overlord, have told them.
Problem is they don’t really have a good way to tell you. I remember very succinctly the day both boys
left the terrible twos. One day a light
just flipped, and they figured out that they had to tell you want they wanted
in order to exercise their new found free will.
From that point on they have entered stage 3. Now they know they can make choices, they
know they need to inform you of those choices, but god forbid you disagree with
those choices, no matter how irrational they sound to your stupid adult
brain.
If you can keep up with the speed at which those choices
change, then you are a better parent then me. Most times you are able to use a calm reasoned approach to what they would like. Other times you can't or more likely are to tired to negotiate the mind field that is a three year old's brain. I can’t really blame them though. As adults we change our minds just as
often. Really the only difference
between us and them is we have the emotional control to cry on the inside.
The day after I finished complaining about my short 20 minute commute, it took an hour and a half.
You can’t make this stuff up. It took
an hour to make it 7 miles up the highway.
At first I was all…ha ha ha isn't this funny. I could appreciate the irony as it has
happened to me in the past. One Sunday
in the distant past, I had prayed for patience.
After mass I went to Wendy’s and stood in line for 45 minutes to get my
food. I could literally hear God
laughing at me.
I don’t remember when I stopped laughing. I think it happened some time after I had to
call the hotel, so they would know I would be there shortly before the end of
time. I wasn't collapsing on the floor, but inside I was screaming just like the three year old I was trying to give the milk he wanted earlier in the day.
We humans are a fickle bunch. Unfortunately as adults we don’t get to roll
around on the floor at Walmart because the TV we wanted just went up $30. I
think that kids are more like the adult version of us then we give them credit
for. Someday little Jack is going to
feel too socially awkward to express his emotions so vocally. That makes me a little sad actually, which
in turn makes me a little crazy I think.
Glenn just laughed and rolled his eyes. “It sure is hard being three isn't it dad.”
You should try my age, said every person ever.
The crying did stop, and he moved on as if nothing had
happened. When I went to get his clothes
for the day, there was no doubt what he would be wearing that day.
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