Dear Swee’Pea and TheMonk,
As you know, you turned three last month. Three fingers, which you will slowly fold your pinkie finger under your thumb to show me how old you are whenever I ask. As you tell me, three means that you are a “big boy and big girl.”
Apparently, turning three also means that you must become as stubborn as humanly possible. Simple requests like “please finish your vegetables” or “Come here, please, so I can put on your shoes” or “Come here and rub Daddy’s feet” are more often than not met with a firm “NO!” followed by screams and tears if we don’t, for some insane reason, accept your “NO!” as the final word.
This stubbornness would be something to marvel at if it didn’t make me want to beat my head in with the nearest blunt object every time you dig your heels in when you don’t want to do something. And while your stubbornness is awe inspiring, it’s also cloaked in irony. Irony? You ask.
Why, yes. It’s ironic because your parents just might be the two most stubborn people on the planet. (Your mother just slightly more than I, but she won’t admit it because she’s so darn stubborn.)
We’ve had lots of practice being stubborn, your mother and I. Admit we’re wrong? HA! Do something when the other requests it and we don’t really want to? We invented “NO!”
So, what I’m trying to tell you, my stubborn little ones, is that you… don’t… have… a… chance. We will out-stubborn your stubbornness. And I know that annoys you to all ends but you’re just going to have to deal with it because I am not about to be played by a couple of toddlers who still can’t wipe their own butts.
So, bring it on, my little ones. Your mother and I are ready.