Age three can get a bad rap.
Terms like ‘threenager’ are thrown around between moms at parks, online forums, and blogs. And rightfully so. Three can be a tough age. I’ve seen it myself.
But not with my boys.
Ok, hold on. They have (/had) their moments at three, that is for sure, but let’s back up a bit here.
My boys were certifiably insane from about one year to turning three years old. To prove my point I often had people, sometimes randoms, ask me ‘are you OK?’ ‘do you ever sit down?’ ‘how many stitches?’ ‘he fell in the pool again?’
Yes, he did. They both have. And no, I’m not ok.
I feel it can be best summed up this way: All my boys wanted to do from the time they were babies was to run around in the yard by themselves. And that can’t happen at one. Neither of them were even walking at one so they were just… mad. Not content. Then when they were two and running around like insane wild things, they of course had to be supervised (no B, you can’t blindly run into the road. No L, you can’t run out into the middle of the 18th green of a golf course), and that made them even more upset.
They wanted to run, play, climb… exist, without mom.
L was different in the sense that he wanted all these things but also had zero attachment issues to me. B wanted all these things but also spent most of his time also trying to figure out how to re enter the womb. Needless to say, it was a very frustrating mix for both of us. He wanted to be independent of me but didn’t know how, like many two year olds. He also had an over the top experience with teething, which didn’t help things at all.
Reasoning is also huge, huge. Traveling with them when they were 18 months on a plane? Scary. They didn’t get it. You can’t get out of your seat because WE ARE ON A PLANE. But you don’t get that.
At three, they might still want to run around on the plane, but they understand they can’t. Here, watch a movie. Life changing.
At three most baby things are gone. Hallelujah. Bottles, pacifiers, cribs, diapers (ok, ok, we are working on it!), even strollers. We are in ‘big kid’ mode, and I love every minute of it. Yes the cuddly new born stage is endearing and nothing beats the chub of a 6 month old, but honestly? I thrive as a mom at age 3+.
So if you’re a mom worried about the bad rap three can get, I’m here to give you hope. If age one and two were tough, maybe three will be your turning point. And hey, I’ve found that it only continues to get better and better, because you know what? There is pretty much nothing more awesome than an eight year old son. Except for maybe a nine year old one. 😉