Zombie's, Three Year Olds & Snot

My youngest has entered a pleasant state of warm cuddling squeeze-him-tight cuteness and blind homicidal rage. Yay three! *New parents, when you hear about terrible two's, they are actually referring to three, two just rhymes. Two is nothing. Two is getting you prepared for three. THEY won't tell you that, but I will. I'm your friend.* 

This morning (yesterday), after being reminded that he has been banned from the Wii for... however long I decide, he stomped upstairs spouting threats and decrees. Once I finished reading this, which you should too, I went upstairs to talk him down a little. I sat him on my lap and patiently waited while he stuttered through telling me what a horrible father I was and his plans to slam all the doors in the house. At some point in his narrative all the doors disappeared but I didn't ask him to clarify, I still had a cup of coffee waiting for me. After he finished I asked him a few questions:

1. Did you hit mommy yesterday?
2. Did you pull all the shoes off Gong Gong's (grampa) shelves and leave them all over the floor?
3. Did you hit Gong Gong's fan after he told you not to touch it because you might hurt yourself?

And because he's three he fully admitted to all of these crimes and more. So instead of dropping some "because I said so" nasty on him I took the time to explain exactly why he wasn't going to be playing Lego Star Wars for the foreseeable future. He sat there and 'listened' without freaking out so I granted him bail and sent him on his way. Then I noticed my sleeves. All the while I was talking, Liam was rubbing his face on my shoulders, first one, then the other, back and forth. Rubbing his snotty little three year old nose all over my new Zombie's Ate My Brain t-shirt. Should've just spanked the little shit. 

(JOKING!)