The fact that we allow toddlers to grow into pre-schoolers is proof of the unconditional love of a parent.
Honestly, if you knew an adult who acted like a toddler, you’d probably get some sort of court-ordered protection to keep them away. They’re insane, inappropriate, totally unreasonable and often violent. You would never accept any of this from anyone else. But from a toddler, we let it slide.
Let’s have a look at some of the standard behaviours of toddlers as performed by a group of 52 year olds:
• You and Barb are going shopping. Barb would like to go shopping in the nude. You look at Barb, boobs hanging to her waist and explain that we all need to wear clothes to the shops. She kicks you in the chin and runs away.
• Gary is hopping into the car for a 10.15 a.m. appointment. It’s now 10.13 a.m. and you have spent the last 45 minutes explaining that you really need to go because you’re going to be late. Gary opens the door and, despite his bad hip, manages to swing his whole body into the boot of the car in an effort to escape you. When he finally gets into his seat he assumes the two-by-four position and refuses to bend in the middle so you end up karate-chopping him in the beer gut in an effort to do up his seatbelt. As you finally click him in, he knees you in the stomach.
• Ian doesn’t like the meal you’ve made. He stands up, hitches his belt to his nipples, and flicks the whole plate straight at your face.
• Denise is exhausted after a ten-hour shift at work, but instead of going to bed, she’s going to stand and scream in your face before removing every item from her bedside table with one swift leg swipe, followed by an interpretive dance routine and incoherent singing. Then she kicks you in the ear.
• Graham has his bed in his own room but at night-time he creeps into your room, climbs into your bed, rubs his stubble all over your neck and kicks you in the back. Over and over and over again. For hours at a time.
No matter how many times you try to tell yourself that your child is just two years old and you are an adult who should be able to keep a steady head, it won’t make it any easier to deal with your tiny pest. He’s a jerk. An a-hole. A turd. A tiny little fecker. A douchebag, nay, a TWOUCHEBAG. And a twouchebag is just the opening act for the main show, which is the THREENAGER.
If a twouchebag is from the Terrible Twos, a Threenager is from the Throwdown Threes, where life is one big brawl. Or perhaps the Threatening Threes, because all you do is issue threats. Or the Thankless Threes because it’s a SLOG. Maybe it’s the Thorny Threes, because it’s one big prick of a year. It’s definitely the Thirsty Threes because you’re going to need to drink.
Of course, you’ll throw out the old ‘But he is my world, and I love him so much!’ every ten minutes or so, to remind everyone you’re not complaining, and you’re eternally #grateful even when you’ve just slammed the car door and screamed at the closed window, ‘WHY IS THIS MY LIFE?’
But you don’t have to do that. We know you love your child. That’s never been in question. But, darl, sometimes it’s impossible to like them.