Phase “3”

I heard from many, many, many people, that the “three’s” are 100 times worse than the two’s.

And that certainly seems to be true for us right now.

Little Man has officially reached his terrible three’s.

Every day isn’t bad. In fact, I’d venture to say that most days are actually still pretty good.

But others?

Other days are filled with screaming, stomping, kicking, loud and intentional bouts of saying “NO!” over and over and over again (for him and for me).

The blank stares and looks of utter defiance have taken over, as well.

At least once every. single. day. I have to repeat myself 15 times before he will even make a move to do what I’ve asked him to do.

Picking up the toys, coming to the potty, getting his things ready for bed (puppy dog, cup, favorite Toy Story blanket that occasionally ends up in the living room), coming to the bathroom to brush his teeth, NOT sitting on the dog and trying to ride her like she’s a horse…

The list goes on.

Bedtime routine has become the most dreaded part of my evening.

What was once simple, easy and quite enjoyable, has become a battle of the wits and a test to see who is going to cave in first. As of right now, mommy and daddy are still winning the battle.

Bedtime for us starts at 8:00 pm, in order to have the little guy in bed by 9:00.

*Note: For those who are reading this and wondering why on EARTH I let my not-even-three years-old-yet son stay up until 9:00: Move to Alaska. Experience the 16-18 hours of daylight and try explaining to a three year old why he can’t get up to play when the sun is still shining. 9:00 works for us. It works for EVERYONE.

We start brushing teeth, picking up toys, changing into PJ’s and whatnot at 8:00 pm. If we are lucky, the little guy is in his bed to stay by 9:00. Some days, it drags on closer to 9:30.

But I refuse to budge and opt back to a crib.

We’ve invested in a big boy bed. And that’s where he will stay.

It’s not all bad.

Really, it isn’t.

Despite the frustration, the countless bruises on my legs and arms from flailing arms and legs during a tantrum (or, just from playtime), the lack of sleep he and I both endure on some days, and the whining…

He’s a good boy. A pretty much always well-behaved boy.

And I recognize that he has double doses of hard-headed and stubborn tendencies coming his way. The hubs and I knew that his “strong willed spirit” would be our worst battle as he got older.

I just dread the teenage years….

What about your kids? Were the two’s better or worse than the three’s?
How about age four?