What Does 3 Look Like?

Okay so we probably lucked out with a relatively tantrum-free 2 year old. The year wasn't terrible and neither was she. BUT, the day she turned three, the switch flipped! She became sassy and stubborn and sometimes incredibly belligerent. I'm purposely writing all of this and posting it with pictures of her in a rare, sweet and cooperative moment in hopes that one day when I look back, I'll skip the writing and simply see a cute little innocent child.

She doesn't want to do anything the way we ask. If we say run to the car, she'd rather walk - and walk slower than ever before. If we say cookies are for dinner, she'd rather have raisins. If we talk too much to each other, we're told to be quiet because her babies are sleeping - upstairs - in her closet. During disciplining, she cries because "you guys say bad things to me." She also likes to tell me "we're not going to talk about this anymore." She wants to do everything by herself. Pick out her clothes. Feed the dog. Pour her drinks. Brush her hair. She gets things in her head and will not be convinced otherwise. For example, she thinks the laundry hamper is what cleans the clothes and want to pick her outfits from there. I try to tell her those things are dirty and she yells back that DEY ARE FLEAN!

And then there's bedtime. And while her routine is still pretty lengthy with books and singing and back scratching and tucking in all the animals, it's the one time of day that, without fail, she returns to being my sweet little princess. In between each book, she'll lean over and say I love you or I had a great day. She wants lots of kisses and hugs. She loves to have her back rubbed and be told the story about the day she was born. She likes to recount the dreams she had last night. She wants to know what's happening tomorrow. She asks and she listens and she responds. She is an absolute angel. And as I walk out of her room after saying prayers together, I say a silent one as the door shuts that this will be the child that wakes in the morning. And after all the exasperation she's caused in the day, I crash onto the couch and am reminded that she, like all of us, is a work in progress. I am a work in progress as her mother and we are growing and learning and testing and challenging each day. And the frustration lessens a good bit and I think of her sweet smile and her infectious laugh and I'm in love with her all over again. Which works out, since right about then - she is standing in the hallway explaining that she hasn't told Jack good night yet or that I forgot to catch a kiss when I left the room. Luckily I have had a good 3 minutes to relax so I am able to stay calm.