I hate three. This is the little song I have been singing the last few months. I enjoyed one and two was not terrible, but I am not really enjoying three and we are only 5 months in. I will say to do not hate my 3 year old, but I do not like all that has come along with her being three. Her attitude. The foot stomp. The hands on the hips. The "No". The ignoring of what she is being asked to do. It is almost like having a mini-teenager in the home. It just makes my blood pressure and my voice raise (which both need to stop).
Everyday with Miss. G, at 3, is not bad. She is an explorer. She wants to be helper. She loves to smile. She is always ready to dance. The emergence of her strong personality. She likes to cuddle. She likes to read and listen to music. She loves her tablet and doing puzzles. I do love her independence and her wiliness to try new things. I do appreciate her lack of fear, but it does scare me. It is just like there are two people living inside of her at this time even though three can not be divided evenly. One minute she is just so sweet and the next it is like aliens have overtaken her body. I just need a balance or at least some warning when the switch is going to happen.
I guess these are the growing pains of watching your little one grow up. The ups and downs. There are always going to be things that you like and things that you don't. As long Miss G knows that I love her no matter what and I have my hidden bottle of Cooper Hawk White Sangria for my mommy time, I will be able to survive three and all that comes with it.