Being Three

I have a love/hate relationship with the age three. On the one hand, a three-year-old is a lot of fun. Their imagination is starting to really blossom, and their worldview is starting to take shape to include more than just themselves. But on the other hand, their fight for autonomy and need to understand their emotions results in quite a bit of attitude and back talk, at least when my kids are involved.

I have a five-year-old daughter, and when she was three I thought she would always be a contemptible, ill-mannered, self-centered girl, and I knew I had to have done something terribly wrong to have raised such a child. Despite all the encouragement that she was just going through a phase, I KNEW this was how she was and would always be. I was wrong, of course. My daughter now is loving, helpful, obedient 98% of the time, and just a pleasure to have around. I am thankful every day that she chose me as her mommy.

Now that my son is three, and his attitude makes me seriously miss the sweet little boy he once was. I suppose being a boy makes a bit of a difference, since he is loud, plays rough, and has a fascination with various bodily functions that he thinks are hilarious. But his tone towards me sometimes borders on impertinent, and I have to pull all my strings to stay composed and not erupt into anger. The only consolation I have is that I know now that he IS going through a phase. Of course, my son can still be sweet, and his imagination and creativity is amazing to watch and be a part of, and I DO love having him around. I just wish he would cut the attitude and borderline bullying toward his little sister.

My one-year-old is a joy to have around. She is beyond entertaining and an absolute love, but I cringe to think of the little monster she will become when she is three (or even earlier, since she has older siblings to model after).

Even so, I would never trade up motherhood for anything in the world.