Once upon a time my Dad imparted some very wise words;
"Forget about the so called terrible two's, it's when they hit three that you need to worry!"
When J hit three, I realised my Dad was right. And now H is only two weeks off being a three year old and I've decided that three year olds are the work of the devil.
I think it's because they're smarter than two year olds. Because they can communicate better. And because the little buggers know the right buttons to push to get their way.
H's situation is made all the more complicated by his wheat intolerance. Some days, we manage quite well. But others I'll happily place an iPod in his hand and walk away. Play all day son, as long as it keeps you out of my face.
H: I want some scooby snacks.
Me: You can't have them sweetie, they have wheat in them. How about some wheels?
H: I don't want wheels, I want scooby snacks.
Me: Honey you can't, you'll get sick. How about some popcorn?
H: I don't want popcorn, I want scooby snacks.
Me: BUT YOU CAN'T HAVE SCOOBY SNACKS. EAT A YOGHURT.
H: I DON'T WANT A YOGHURT, I WANT SCOOBY SNACKS.
Now, this will honestly continue until we've exhausted every food item in both the fridge and pantry, and will end with H face-planting on the floor while screaming. So I'll send him to his bed. And he'll spend an hour there crying, and each time I try and talk to him all he says is...
But I want scooby snacks.
I've learned that sometimes I need to choose my battles. I've learned that bribery is acceptable in some circumstances. And I've learned that face-planting three year olds WON'T injure themselves... most of the time...
Have you experienced the terrible threes?