Two

When the Big Boy turned three, I declared far and wide that three is worse than two.

I talked about it with friends.

I blogged about it here.

I accepted it as a universal truth of child-husbandry.

Recently, though, as the Wee One approaches his 2nd birthday, he has begun to exhibit some rather challenging behaviors, and I have decided that three is not worse than two.

There are 2 reasons for my erroneous conclusion:

1) There was a brief lull between the two-year-old-naughtiness and the three-year-old-naughtiness.

And though it was brief, it caused me to immediately forget all the previous naughtiness due to my overwhelming gratitude.

2) As the Big Boy made his way through the terrible-two's, I got used to it and became adept at managing him. Unfortunately, when he turned 3, all my techniques were useless.

Formidable.

So let me make it clear, for I fear I may have misled my beloved friends and readers:

Two is not easier than three.

Here are the rules of engagement:

* My needs are to be met instantly lest screaming ensue
* I might just scream anyway.
* If I drop something, I scream.
* If you say no, I scream.
* If he has it, I want it. More screaming.
* I have two volume levels: loud and screaming.
* Give me that, now.
* Cuddle with me at your own risk, I cannot differentiate between hugs and headbutts, kisses and biting. I think pinching is affectionate.
* I eat things I find on the floor.
* Do not leave me alone. Especially near the toilet.