People warned me about the “terrible twos.” Well, I’m here to tell you that the two’s were NOTHING! I loved my babies at age 2. So sweet, innocent, curious. Absolutely wonderful.
The Devil as described by Wikipedia:
He is described as…wreaking havoc on the souls of mankind.
…a servant of God whose job it is to test humankind.
This is the day of a typical three year old:
We wake up at the butt-crack of dawn. Although just in this last week, we’ve been sleeping till 7am. Amazing! For the first 30 minutes of our day, it’s generally peaceful and sweet. We sit in my recliner, drink some chocolate milk, watch some Wow, Wow, Wubzy. But then, their attitudes wake up.
They throw their sippy cup at the TV because they are “DONE!” I tell them “No!” and they laugh. I put them in time out, and they laugh. I swat them, again they laugh.
Big brother wakes up and the wrestling begins. I guess it’s inbred into boys to be physically rough even at a young age. They push, shove, fight over toys. One smacks his head on the TV table. They just get up and start over. Toys go sailing through the air.
Then I fix breakfast. I’ve resorted recently to just giving them Nutri-grain or granola bars. When we sit down at the table for breakfast another fight ensues.
“I want Fruit Loops!”
“No, Mini Wheats!”
Milk gets spilled, cereal gets poured on the dog. Food fights, silverware sailing through the air.
After breakfast, we get to go outside and play. We are blessed to have a large open area for the boys to run and play. It’s fenced and they have a fair amount of freedom to run. We live in my parents house, and they live next door in the garage. My mom and dad have a lot of nice stuff. Well, they used to.
They have ripped a $200 cover off my dad’s off road vehicle. They break sprinklers. Pull all the flowers off the rose bushes. Throw dirt everywhere. When I try to discipline them for their misbehavior, they laugh. It’s only about 11am now.
Lunchtime is usually much the same as breakfast, except grapes are flying through the air now.
The afternoon progresses. They fight. They scream. They argue. I wonder where my sweet two year old’s went. I want to cuddle.
Instead, they take turns running into the house to tell on the other. I have to inspect bite marks and head bumps.
Pretty soon even they are a little tired. We have another glass of chocolate milk and watch some TV. We fight over what to watch.
“No, Wow, Wow, Wubzy!”
More crying and screaming. I usually turn on something else entirely otherwise I get to hear “Ha Ha, I win!”
3:30 in the afternoon. Daddy’s home! YAY! Maybe I’ll survive another day.
Evening comes around. We ride our bikes. More dirt. They crash into each other. Always crying and fighting over something. I try to make dinner. I try to make something that everyone will like. We sit at the table as a family. But then they all have to get up and go pee. All at the same time. We only have 2 toilets. More fighting “ME FIRST!”
I tell someone to use the other toilet. “I DON’T WANT TO!”
After dinner is more World Wrestling Federation in the living room. Bath time. Actually bath time usually goes pretty well. They like their baths. Until they start spitting water in each others faces, out of the tub, on the windows.
Ah, sweet bedtime.
“I need a drink of water!”
“I need to go potty!”
“I need Mario!”
“I need bear!”
“I need my blanket!”
“I don’t want my blanket!”
Do you see how a three year old can be described as “wreaking havoc on the soul of mankind,” or “who’s job it is to test humankind?”
Oh, and did you forget that I have TWO of them?