Three Year Old Things

Don’t worry Knox, I get it.  Being three years old is a lot of hard work, but I was wondering if I could ask you a few questions, you know, if you have a moment?

So like, between demanding rice cakes with nothing on them and then crying hysterically moments later because there’s nothing on your rice cakes and consistently losing your shoes the moment you take them off, how do you even find the time to throw all your sisters precious toys off her bed until she threatens to push you off too?  Where do you store the energy that makes you want to empty every toy box in your room and then where does it disappear to when it’s time to clean it all up?

I know, I know.  It must be really hard to try and maintain the balance of learning the art of karate and not intentionally greeting everyone with a karate chop to the face.  Well, I have to assume it is because sometimes, well, it seems like you get confused?

Talking about confusing, what I can’t understand is why you’ve suddenly decided that you don’t like anything at all any more.  That restaurant with the amazing playground that we’ve been to a couple of times has suddenly morphed into the boiling hot pit of hell and the shoes you fitted into perfectly yesterday have magically changed into live crocodiles eating your toes.  Does this mind shift happen while you’re sleeping?

Oh, no wait, that’s just not possible.  Because that would imply that you slept.  You see, even though you sneakily creep into my room at 2 in the morning, I do actually see you – maybe even more so when you shout, “Don’t see me!  Don’t see me!“.  It’s kind of weird how that works.  It’s also weird that suddenly my bed that was big enough to fit both me and Daddy, now seems to have shrunk to the extent that I have to huddle on the side, trying not to fall off.  Is that a magic trick that you learnt?  I bet it’s call, “Let’s Make Mom Tired Tomorrow”.

And then of course, how do you choose when you want my attention?  I know it’s not based on when I call you over, because you don’t ever bother to come to me.  It’s also not when I give you cuddles and kisses in-between juggling all the stuff that I have to get done at the various stages of the day.  So, does an alarm bell go off inside your head when I have to cook, or clean, or do my make up, or get dressed, or go to the loo, or talk to anyone other than you or worst of all, sit down for 5 minutes?  Have you rigged up some nanny cams?  It’s quite uncanny how you manage to need me in all of these moments even when we’re not in the same room.  Maybe you’re destined to be a secret agent.

Last but not least, I’ve been meaning to ask you about those funny looking things on the side of your head.  I think they’re called ears.  Although I’m not sure yours are.  Yours could much more appropriately be called ornaments/decorations/props/useless – just saying, although would you even hear me just saying?  The only reason that I’m led to believe that they have a use is because somehow you manage to pick up words quietly mentioned in conversation, like donuts or juice and then never ever stop requesting them until they’re in your face hole.

I guess being three is more demanding than I remember it being.  There’s certainly a lot to juggle around while you’re living the hard life of being served every meal, bathed, cuddled, dressed and carried everywhere.  But my dear boy, there’s only one real question that I need to ask you and it’s this…

Do you know how much I freaking love you and your funny little quirks?