I was warned. My friends told me. All the blogs and parenting websites contained endless articles on the subject: The Terrible Threes. Everyone said the “Terrible Twos” are nothing compared the “Terrible Threes”. Well, not my sweet baby, I thought. The gentle little boy who caresses my face and tells me “I love you Mommy, we’re best friends” will never go through “that” stage. Sure, he has his moments; he gets cranky once in a while, but terrible? Not my Jack.
Then he turned three. And guess what? It turns out my sweet, gentle boy does not in fact defy all odds. Suddenly, my good boy was throwing his toys at me. Demanding he wants milk: NOW. Give Mommy a hug? No way! Take a bath without protest? Impossible! Hold my hand in the parking lot? Never!
I have applesauce on my fingers and you’re not cleaning it fast enough!