Oh, To Be Three Again

My three-year-old son has it made.  Really.

He made his mama wake up with him at 5:30am, set him up with the iPad (so the TV wouldn’t wake up his big brother) and then try to finish her night’s sleep on the couch.  Which is leather and not at all comfortable (or warm) when the furnace hasn’t started warming the house up for the day yet.

Then, he gets to have a nice nap on the way to Walmart to buy Disney Planes: Fire and Rescue while Mama has to stay awake navigating tricky road construction and pesky police officers who insist on staying behind her rather than passing and carrying on with their day.

Then, because Walmart is stupid, he gets a new toy that has been placed directly beside the DVD display.  Mommy has to explain to Daddy that she really didn’t go anywhere near the toy section, just like she promised!

Then he gets to play video games with Mama all day to distract him from the new movie that we’re saving until his brother gets home from school.  He also gets to play Lego, trains and whatever else he desires in order to keep him distracted.

By doing this he ensures that Mama has to stay up late after her long day (the day before her first job interview in 15 years, natch!) helping GranNan do work that she’s had to do since May but now has a deadline on.

He’s lucky that he’s cute.  Being 3 is a license to be as self-centered as possible at all times, demanding everything from juice to fruit to toys to a diaper (because for some reason, this particular 3-year-old has decided that he’s too scared to poop on the potty!) to hugs and kisses and cuddles.

It really is too bad that most people don’t remember anything from their toddler/preschool years…or maybe not, I’m sure that we would all have egotistic tendencies far worse than we already do!


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