Terrible Threes

Yes, we have hit the terrible threes. I vaguely remember going through this stage with Ainsley. You know, the age where your angelic child has teenage-like mood swings and changes into a raging psychopath because you didn't give them the right color cup? Yep - we are totally there. My cute-as-a-button little boy has turned into an a-hole. Sure, I still get some moments of adorable cuteness. But more often than not, I'm holding my breath and waiting for the meltdown to occur. 

So I apologize if you've seen my son in public lately - it's not a pretty sight. One minute he is helping push the grocery cart, and the next minute he is sprawled on the floor in the middle of the aisle screaming because the Spiderman fruit snacks are in a BLUE box, not a RED box. 

On Friday we decided to take the kids to a baseball game. Pretty awesome, right? He was excited until we got to the seats and he realized we were going to try to feed him. Yes, we had the audacity to offer him things like french fries, popcorn, peanuts, and even Doritos. Nope - he wanted none of these things and made sure everyone two sections over knew of his displeasure. 


Why, mom?! WHY would you do this to me?!

And WHY won't you let me kick the people sitting in front of us?!?

This is SOOOOO annoying...

Fine... if I give you a quick smirk will you let me run around again?!

He didn't want to watch the game. He didn't want to play on the iPad. He didn't want to watch the mascots. Really all he wanted in life was some blue cotton candy. After force-feeding him minimal amounts of french fries and popcorn, we finally got him some freakin' cotton candy (also because he was determined to chase the cotton-candy-wielding-vendor all over the stadium while screaming like a banshee).  Finally! Peace. A happy boy, covered from head to toe in sticky blue sugar. 





That happiness lasted about 10 minutes, at which point I decided I had better cut my losses and take this boy home while he was still in the mood to willingly walk with me. After all, carrying a 30-lb spawn of Satan all the way across the parking lot is never my idea of fun. 

Thankfully we made it to the car without any tears, and he sat happily while I baby-wiped his blue face and changed him into pjs. He gave me adorable air-kisses in the car on the way home, and talked about how much fun he had at the baseball game.  That is, until we got home and he realized that Sissy and Daddy were still AT the baseball game (it was a double header). Another meltdown ensued as he loudly exclaimed that we should go BACK to the baseball game with them because... 'I LOVE BASEBALL!'

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