The ‘Terrible Twos’ Were Just the Warm-Up: Adventures with My Threenager.

They say the “Terrible Twos” are the hardest, but I’m here to report that they’ve got nothing on age three. At two, there were tantrums; at three, there’s a toddler with strategy. Her favorite word? “No.” And believe me, she says it with more passion than a Shakespearian actor delivering a soliloquy. It’s her “No” world; I’m just living in it. Whenever she’s about to scale something dangerous, and I break out the classic “I’m going to count to three…” she doesn’t just stop. No, she starts counting right along with me, “4…5…6!”—as if we’re playing some kind of weird number-themed game. When it’s mealtime, she has the appetite of a bird. But give her snacks? Suddenly, she’s got the capacity of a grown adult at a buffet. Who knew someone so tiny could have such a discerning palate for all things sugary and crunchy? Daycare is another battle. If she’s not wearing exactly what she’s chosen, we’re not going. I want to tell her, “Hey, little Miss, back in my day, I wore whatever my mom put on me. I ate what was on the table.” But then I hear myself, and think, wow, I really do sound like my mom. And if you thought toys were “share and share alike,” welcome to our house, where anything her five-month-old sister touches becomes her new favorite. The moment her sister reaches for a toy, my three-year-old is right there with, “It’s mine!” Then there’s bedtime, where quiet is the goal—except that’s when she breaks into her loudest rendition of the ABCs. I’m talking “A-B-C-DEEEEE” at full volume while I’m desperately trying to keep the baby asleep. Patience? Let’s just say it’s wearing thin. But, just as I’m on the edge, she’ll toddle up, wrap her little arms around me, and say, “I’m sorry, Mama” or “I love you, Mama.” And just like that, my frustration evaporates. How can I stay mad at that face? Because, honestly, these moments of chaos and sweetness make it all worth it.