Being Three

I hear him in the background as I try to steal half an hour to myself. Its Sunday and we have not left the house. Its the usual way on a Sunday, we potter about trying to get organised for the week ahead.

He is “reading” a story to his older brother. The book seems to be all about a character that does poo’s and wee’s everywhere he goes, in the “doctors box”, on his bicycle, on the hill. It sounds like a very witty story as I can hear such giggles coming from their bedroom.

This morning being a lazy morning the story telling three year old was standing on the side of my bed trying to balance as if he were an astronaut. No pants, bare bum, pajama top, a jam smeared face. He is telling me a rather serious story.

“You cant wun in space Mummy”

Why ?

“Cause dhere is no gwavity”.

What does gravity do?

“It keeps you on de gwound!”

“Like on were planet”

He seems to not have learned the word “our” yet. Its all, “were home, were car, were family”. I haven’t wanted to correct him. He will know everything soon enough.

When we are trying to pile into the car to go somewhere not once does he ever just sit down in his seat and wait to go. He either climbs over the passenger seat or my drivers seat, pressing every button and switch he can find on his way. I have had many a flat battery over the last year because interior lights have been left on without me knowing.

“Can you please sit in your seat?”……………..

“CAN YOU PLEASE GET INTO YOUR SEAT NOW !”

“We are going to be late”.

Late, whats that when you are three, who cares ?

I had a premonition of him as a teenager when he was trying to change my gears and turn my lights on. I suddenly thought Oh NO, this boy is going to be trouble when he is older. The type of child whom will try anything once.

Its usually just when I am about to leave to go somewhere I find him covered in red paint or with Mummy’s good face cream in his hair.

Although he doesn’t  like being left at daycare, he clings to me like a little Koala bear. This tiny little girl often comes up to us and grabs his hand. She is usually wearing a tutu and her very cute face is framed by a thick fringe. She tells me he is her best “fwiend” She asked me “Why him scarwed”? When I ask him about this little girl he ignores me !

He likes making “expewiments”. You know? when you get all the ingredients from the kitchen you can get your hands on and mix it all together in a bowl? My bowls and mixing spoons strewn around the back garden as he concocts a potion to “captuwer the child snatcher”.

He likes looking for bugs in the garden. All the concrete blocks that are meant to contain the flowers…… ehh I mean weed beds pulled out of place. He regularly comes to me with black shiny horrible looking centipedes in his hands, “I call him speedy Mummy”. Slugs too and little fish caught with just his hands. He wants to keep the slugs and centipedes in jars. Then he forgets about them. I find discarded jars under his bed, inside shriveled up slugs that have been suffocated and starved.

He winds his big brother up like a cat with a toy mouse. His brother takes the bait every time, then he sits back while his brother gets into trouble. Mostly I’m wise to his ways and he cries when I tell him off . He grabs his beloved blue doggy and climbs onto my lap all snuggly, sweet and cherub like.

He nearly always smells of wee. No time for toilet breaks in a three year olds world. Too many slugs to squash. Several times a day he breaks out into the wee wee dance but will deny to the last second he needs a wee.

I read to him at night on the bottom bunk before I climb up to his big brother. He snuggles in, his cold feet tucked into my legs. His blue dog over his face. When the stories are finished he easily turns over and falls peacefully asleep. When you are such a busy creature you become exhausted at bedtime.

While I am reading to his brother I hear his little sighs and snuffles as he rests from his big day. It makes me feel warm and fuzzy, he still sounds like a baby when he sleeps…………..

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