Three is not my favorite age. Case in point:
Mom: Lexi, please put on your swimming suit. Your lesson is pretty soon.
Lexi: NO! I'm NOT going to swimming lessons today!
[Insert 20 minutes of screaming and banging on my bedroom door while I take a shower and get ready for the day.]
Mom: Hey, you put on your swimming suit!
Lexi: (Crossing arms, glaring and snarling) Because I wanted to. Hmph. But I'm NOT swimming.
Mom: OK, but remember: if you want to watch TV later, you have to participate in swimming lessons.
Lexi: But I don't LIKE privileges! I'm not going!
Mom: Really? I thought you liked your shows.
Lexi: I am just going to put my FEET in the water! And wear my swimming suit like THIS! (Pulls the shoulder straps off and shoves the neckline down around her waist.)
Mom: You have to do everything your teacher asks if you want electronics privileges today.
Lexi: I WON'T DO FLOATS!
Mom: Even the floats, Lexi.
Lexi: You're the meanest mom EVER! I'm telling Dad on you!
Mom: (Laughing.)
Lexi: When he gets home from work, you're getting a time-out!
Mom: I love you, Lexi.
Lexi: I HATE you!
**
After enjoying the exchange above (and remaining calm; do I get a gold star?), I fetched Gavin from the basement and herded children to the van. But I couldn't find my keys. I did not remain calm about that, and finally gave up looking for them at 9:40. Lessons started at 9:30. I later found them on the counter under a t-shirt.
Happy Monday, everyone. Happy Monday.
6 comments:
But, as I'm sure Lexi wanted to know too, did Lexi get her privileges?
Huge gold star. We are getting a jump start on 3 around here too apparently. Anytime I can keep steam from coming out of my ears I give myself a pat on the back :)
You can have a gold star for yourself, and you can have mine too because I doubt I could have kept my cool! Sorry about your keys, that is the WORST. Takes me from 0-grouch in seconds.
This is hilarious, she would have had me stumped and flustered! Good job!
Man! I would love a time-out when Dad gets home! :) I think the evens are worse than the odds. Terrible twos? Not so unbearable. Terrible 18 months and threes? Bleh.
Gold star and a parade in your honor! Way to go, mama!
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