Forget the “Terrible Twos” you were warned of, that age is for amateurs and sissies. Three is so much worse on so many levels. Maybe because everyone hears about the “twos” we are lured into a false sense of security.

Like some dumb animal being led to slaughter, you will celebrate your kid turning three thinking such fate-bait thoughts as “well I don’t know what the big deal is about two, that was easy, bring on fourteen!” You chew your cud and take a picture of your little angel swinging at a pinata with your phone. Meanwhile a three year old from a Sinclair novel rolls up on you with a sledge hammer.

Well guess who’s the on deck for the job of pinata?

Three year old kids get hit with a burst of hormones according to a pediatrician friend of mine, then they hit back at the universe with tiny fists of rage, and kick you in the balls.  They are stronger, bigger, pack a large vocabulary, and feel they are getting perpetually screwed over by rules. It’s amazing that they don’t carve Anarchy “circle A’s” in the walls. They merely scrawl them in crayon.

In addition it seems to be worse if the “threenager” in question has an older sibling who they feel is screwing them over or competing with them for attention.

Here is my three year old boy’s day in a nutshell.

7:00am Get up, think about how the universe is meaningless and everything sucks.

7:30am Tell everyone I’m not going to daycare today, refuse to get dressed.

7:45am I make a desperate last stand against pants under dining room table. Curse their strength.

8:30am After making older brother late for school again, snicker quietly to self while dad listens to a lecture on truancy from the grade school admin.

8:45am, Turn on the love and cling to dad’s legs, and then weep when he tries to leave me at daycare, just to make sure he feels horrible for going to work. Two minutes after dad leaves it’s play time with friends!

12:00pm Get picked up by grandma.

12:15pm First ice cream pop from grandma.

12:30pm Mac n Cheese because that’s all I eat.

1:30pm Chill out with some Little Einstein.

2:00pm Second round of ice cream, I’m totally gonna hate myself in the morning.

2:30pm Me time, spend 20 minutes screaming into my fists on the carpet, not sure why,just feels right.


Crying into my tiny fists of rage.

3:00pm Hey, my brother is home from school, bite him when no one is looking.

3:30pm Smash brother’s Lego creation, just to create a lively fist fight. Give token apology, cry until third treat/bribe is given. Love that grandma!

3:40pm Begin messing with brother every fifteen minutes until…

5:00pm Yay, mom’s home, pretend like I was an angel.

6:00pm Refuse first dinner, there was a rumor of parsley somehow involved in it’s preparation, eat token amounts of second dinner. I trust no one.

7:00pm Bath time is mess with my brother time, oh and who needs a drain when the water can be sloshed over the side! Mom swears…love it.

7:45pm Mom thinks that I’m winding down, at this point my brother will whisper something in my ear about a show or toy I love sucking and I will be in hysterics for at least a half hour.

8:45pm Past my bedtime you ask? “Screw you” I reply. I don’t care how late it is, I demand a book and when they threaten to not deliver, I swing the door open so hard the door knob goes through the dry wall. Dad swears, I love it. He seems to be drinking more lately, I’ll exploit that later.

9:30pm Man that game of kick the bedroom wall and scream just really takes it out of me. Well time to get some shut eye, I got some stuff to do in the morn.

And we get to do it all again tomorrow. But hey, after we survive this bring on fourteen! How hard could it be?



4 thoughts on “Threenager

  1. Bout right! Three was ROUGH, at least with my oldest. 5’s been tough with my youngest, though. He refuses to get ready for school, or go to bed on time. And OMG the whining is EPIC.

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