Three the Hard Way

When you have a big break between kids, you forget how hard different life stages are.  But Amy and I are getting rudely reacquainted with how difficult a three-year-old can be, especially one as strong-willed and active as Asher.

Of course, we adore the little guy.  And three has its high points too.  It is super cute to interact with this mini-person, who is much smaller than a grown-up but in another sense larger than life.  And, thankfully for our sanity, he is healthy and he sleeps well.

But oh the life of a three year old.  Prone to raging fits in which he screams bloody murder, he can be impossible to satisfy or pacify, whether we have also lost our temper or are able to keep our cool.  He is above-average in size and strength, and behind on words, which only amps up the degree of difficulty in communicating with and at times literally wrangling him.  Amy is now no longer able to carry him if he is being obstinate, and I fear he will grow bigger (and I frailer) before he has grown old enough to not need to be corralled like we have to do to him now.

Very often I will look at Amy at the end of a long and tiring day and offer the weakest of encouragements: "when he turns 4, all will be well with the world again."  Every day we are that much closer, even if it doesn't feel like it.