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The scene at breakfast last week…”MOMMY!!!! You put too much milk in my cereal!!!!!”

“Beware of the Terrible Twos,” people used to warn me. I’d nod, smiling smugly, thinking I must have really good kids. We waited, we were ready, and yet their entire second year of life, we never experienced that moment when my innocent little twin babies suddenly turned into monster toddlers.

The warning of the Terrible Twos turned into “Oh, the twos are EASY compared with the Thrilling Threes…” Again, I waited on edge and yet still my kids remained happy, cooperative (for the most part) and easy all year. I patted myself on the back once again, silently praising our good genes and phenomenal parenting skills.

Then one day, I turned the corner, not realizing that Karma, the b*tch that she is, was hiding in the shadows. “Welcome to the F*CKING FOURS!!!!” she screamed, as she threw a plate of humble pie into my face.

HOLY H – E – DOUBLE – HOCKEY STICK!!! F*cking Fours times TWO!

It started probably about two months ago when my almost-four-year-olds went from being “junior” preschoolers to “seniors.” My kids were promoted to the title of Big Kids On Campus and they knew that they were hot sh-t amongst their peers. I looked at my daughter one day as she stubbornly insisted on doing things HER way (because, of course, her way is the ONLY way), and I noticed that she had that “I’m Awesome” and “I Know It All” strut going on.

Maybe it’s a girl thing, I thought to myself since I hadn’t yet noticed much in my son, but then he proved me wrong the day that he tried to use his preschool charm to negotiate with Dad to get what he wanted. He was working Dad over with his irresistible smile, saying what effectively translated to, “If I do everything you ask me to for the next 5 minutes while B is being a bad girl, will you give me what I want?” Daddy, AKA “The Sucker”, was about to give in to it when I called A’s bluff.

Cue MAJOR TEMPER TANTRUM (by A, not The Sucker), complete with fist-pounding on the table and open-palm smacks to the wall. It was so loud that the dog slinked away with his tail between his legs and went to hide in the corner (well, really, since the dog has a docked tail, his stubby tail was just covering his butthole, but it was the same effect).

My entire question in all of this is:

HOW COME NO ONE WARNED ME that the fours SUUUUUCCCCCCCCCCCCKKKKK way more than the twos or threes??????

Someone, please pass me the big bottle of “whine.”

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So, yeah…my biggest challenge this year, aside from wanting to drown my sorrows with a giant glass of “Mommy Juice”, will be to stay strong amidst the hairy-eyeballs that will be thrown in my direction by judgmental strangers who will assume that I’m a terrible mom that spoils my kids. I will have to remember not to give in to Little Girlie’s drama (and yes, with her it’s ALL drama) and Little Bubba’s temper flares (no drama but a fiery temper) because it’s all age appropriate (at least that’s what I’ll tell myself).

Holy H*ll…CALGON, TAKE ME AWAY!

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