It seems there is something out there called the “Terrible Threes.” Yes. What was once the “Terrible Twos” has evolved into an even more hideous beast. What you thought you had gotten through in that second precious year has now doubled in size and in ferocity.
It turns out that several of our parent-friends warned us of this. When we would mention some of the more rougher patches of dealing with a two-year old, those much wiser folk would laugh and say, “Just wait ‘til she’s three!” We just shook this off as a scare tactic or some sort of parental joke, but now it seems to be coming to fruition.
The first thing that stands out as a change in her temperament is how she deals with us or rather, how she defies us. The standard warnings and counting to three have lost their edge. Old stand-bys like reverse psychology and threatening time outs just don’t carry the same weight.
Then there are the times when she takes defying to a whole new level. For instance; Finley has this need to hop on the couch as if it were a trampoline. And that was fine and cute when she was smaller. But, as she’s gotten bigger, we can tell that the old divan isn’t going to stand a beating like that much longer. Not to mention the odds of her falling off and cracking open her head have increased, as well. So, we ask her to stop. And she doesn’t. We tell her she’ll get a time out. Doesn’t faze her. In fact, she’ll look us in the eye as we’re telling her not to and bounce up and down. Sometimes she’ll even laugh about it.
Of course, her tune changes when we grab her to take her to her room for the actual time out. “I want to be good,” she cries. Ten minutes later, she’s back up on the couch, bouncing away.
The same thing goes for the coffee table. “Don’t climb on the table, Finley.” “Down!” “You’re going to get a time out!” Up she goes. She’ll even dance on it, taunting us. THIS, is just the beginning of the threes.
But here’s the thing. What happens at four and ten and… the dreaded fourteen? I mean, after all, isn’t childhood just one long prison sentence where we’re trying to escape parental chains (From the kid’s point of view, anyway)? I’ll admit that’s what I thought at times. I would bet most kids do.
So, the challenge for us – other than trying to lose as little hair as possible – is to make our particular prison a little less maximum security and a little more work release. It’s that whole thing about boundaries. Making sure the kid can be a kid without clamping down too much on them. But how much is too much and how much is too little? I guess this is where we earn our parenting stripes.
It’s certainly not like this ALL the time. She can be a very funny and sweet kid. But when she gets cranky, all bets are off. Our job is to teach her what is acceptable and what isn’t without letting her get away with too much. Sure, it’s a balancing act. But, we signed up for this circus. We already have a trampoline artist.
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