Threenager. This is not a term that I came up with but it is one that relates perfectly to what is going on in my home. Don’t get me wrong, my toddler is pretty well behaved compared to a lot of children I have met that share his age. Regardless, there is no denying that he is without a doubt, three.
As usual I spent my morning rushing around trying to pick up here and there, feed the baby, get myself ready and get my oldest boy ready to go. The little was already occupied with our babysitter but the toddler remained in bed. Repeatedly I asked him to get his little bum out of bed and was met with the following answers…
“I’m trying to sleep.”
“I’m just…tired and I’m trying to sleep.”
“Okay, I’m getting up.”
When he finally shook the sand from his eyes he came up to me, looked me square in my face and said, “ugh, I was just trying to sleep ’cause I’m tired.” I wish I could illustrate the amount of teenage angst I heard in his voice.