Here is a picture I snapped yesterday of 3 year old Sadie throwing packaging material from a box I too temptingly left lying around the house.

All around the apartment.

I just couldn’t stop her.

See the glee? She was moving so fast, all the pics I took were blurry just like this one.

This is living, no?

3 year olds are a TRIP.

Whoever coined the term “Terrible Twos” was a little premature. 2 doesn’t hold a candle to 3. Can’t even touch it.

I know I’m not alone in this sentiment, because this page on my site that talks about typical behavior of a 3 year old child gets an insane amount of traffic each month.

I love 3.

I never know what is going to come out of her mouth.

For instance, the other day we were in the tub and she starts telling me all about her husbands. There were 6 or 7 of them, I lost count, each with very unique, multi-cultural sounding ethnic names.

I asked her about the first one.

Mom: “Is he handsome?”

Sadie: “No. He’s not fancy.”

Mom: “Is he nice?”

Sadie: “Yes. He is very nice.”

Mom: “Ah. That’s what’s important.”

She doesn’t listen to a word I say.

Obedience? What’s that?

It’s impossible to get mad at her, nonetheless.

Discipline goes out the window with a 3 year old, it seems. The only way I can get cooperation is by not doing something she wants until she does something I want. And then she says,

“O-KAY! FOINE!”
or,
“What-EVAH!”

And I struggle not to giggle. The other kids say, “Don’t talk to mom like that Sadie.”
(Love that.)

She has learned how to swear.

“Stinky poo poo butt fite!” (fart)

Reserved for the worst possible offenses.

Like someone laughing when she wasn’t trying to be funny.

I am getting a glimpse of the woman she will be.

Putting up with nobody’s crap.

She is very particular about the music she listens to in the car.
When I start up the engine, it’s:

“Turn some moosic on!”

Then she tells me what kind she’s in the mood for. Sometimes down to the individual track.

“I want Bluh! (Blur)” or, “I want Code Pway” (Coldplay) or maybe it’s the Beatles or whatever, but she knows.

Then, she makes faces in the rearview mirror to match the mood of the singer. And insists that I look, and tell her if she’s nailed it.

When someone dares to try to speak when she’s in the mood to talk, she screams:

“Doo-yen! (Julien) You in-ter-wup-ten!”

She’s been fully potty trained for over a year, pee and poo, day and night, yet lately hits the potty only about half of the time.

And when she does, she screams from her small green plastic throne for me to come and wipe her.

Something she mastered a year ago, mind you.

Three is two steps forward, one step back.

After 4, I know this. So I can just enjoy her and not worry too much about all this 3 year old stuff.

I love 3.