I rather boastfully thought I’d avoided the dreaded ‘terrible twos’, my sweet darling Scarlett was a delight morning, noon and night and never gave me much aggro. It seems however that she was merely leading me into a false sense of security for on entering her third year she has fully embodied the mentality of a threenager.
For those blissfully ignorant of this term, a ‘threenager’ is a three-year-old child who has the awkward stubbornness and attitude more commonly found in your average teenager.
I imagine Scarlett is testing her boundaries of behaviour which, in turn, is testing me ALOT.
She can be completely irrational, the other evening I was told that I was “ruining her life” and she “didn’t love me anymore” because I insisted she have a bubble bath. If it wasn’t so funny, I’d have cried.
I’ve taken to factoring in at least a half hour slot for hair brushing as the second I reach for the tangle-teaser she runs in her room and slams the door and shouts she’s not brushing her hair EVER and I’m “silly” and “naughty” for even thinking she’d let me put her hair in pigtails. Luckily, unlike an actual teenager I can tell white-lies like “Well, we best shave your head then” **pretend to go and find razor** which usually does the trick as she’s desperate to be Rapunzel when she gets older.
Poo features heavily in her vocabulary nowadays. Toilet humour is apparently hilarious, whether it’s informing me that I’m a “poo head” to turning down lovingly prepared meals that “smell/look/taste like poo”. Actually pooing though is a very serious matter which starts with an order to put her seat onto the toilet so she may use her step and climb onto the throne without risk of falling in then I’m immediately told to “GO AWAY AND SHUT THE DOOR!” so I have to linger around in the hallway until I hear the follow-up order of “WIPE MY BOTTOM!”
Asking about her social life is usually met with a blank stare –
Me:”So what did you get up to at preschool today with all your friends darling?”
Scarlett: “I can’t remember”
We recently took the stairgate off her door and when I find her sneaking down the stairs to her playroom at 10pm she discovers her manipulative powers by saying “but mummy I just wanted to come and give you a kiss”… yeah more likely you wanted to watch Shaun the Sheep.
When I really annoy her by declining crisp requests or announcing it is bed time I’m informed “I’m not your best friend anymore” and “you’re not invited to my birthday party ” good luck with that one babes as there won’t be a party without me **Cackle**!
You might be reading this thinking my daughter is some kind of tiny psychopath but most of the time she is still the loving, gorgeous girl who lights up my life. Her wit and humour surprise me everyday, if she wasn’t putting out feelers to establish her sense of individuality and independence then I’d be more worried.
I’ll gladly weather the storm, even if I am a poo-head.