Monday, August 18, 2008

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. 



  1. Diabolical. But smart. He's training you well. You get to give your little lecture, and he gets to win.

  2. When emotional 18-year-old-Girl has a meltdown, I always cheer her up by asking if she's wiping her boogers on my shoulder while she cries.

    Two just rhymes? With what, dude? Poo? Shoe? Zoo?

  3. Listen TEACHER, cut me some slack. You know, TUH-terrible TUH-two's? I'm sure there's a poetic catagory that fits into. Right?

    I work with numbers all day, I lucky if I can spell my name right. You may have noticed.

  4. Yeah, those fits of rage are funny unless you're in the middle of one. And wiping snot on your Zombie shirt? If the little ones even touched my "Trophy Wife...Fifth Place" shirt, there would be blood and tears. Probably both mine.

  5. Three was good for us. Four is when the independence and never-ending questions started.

  6. I don't care if you were joking or not, that was funny and that would have probably been my first thought after discovering the snot.

  7. Ha. hahahahaha. MWAHAHAHAHAHAHA.

    My three year old niece is adorable, and also, I believe she is related to Satan.

  8. My husband is the slacker when it comes to discipline and I often tell him "O.K. so when she takes over the world, they aren't just gonna say it is alright because she is cute". I always have to be the bad one and take things away and do time out. My oldest is the biggest drama queen. I often hear her say "But I'll NEVER get to do so and so again!!!"

  9. My god that's so true. Three is waaaayyy worse than two. Which terrifies me because that means my two-year-old (whom we have affectionately nicknamed Beelzebub)will probably kill me in my sleep at some point next year.


Come on, sailor. I love you long time.