I’m discovering where the term “threenager” comes from.
To be clear from the get go, there’s absolutely nothing wrong with being three or being a threenager or being a teenager, or acting in a completely developmentally appropriate way. In fact, there’s everything right! I welcome this phase. But … the hardest phase is the one you’re in, including this one.
My 3.5 year-old son is suddenly acting like a three year old and a teenager all rolled into one.
The other day, while I was driving him home from high school—I mean daycare—he told me he was happy he got to play with his friend Charlotte on the playground at school.
“Good, I’m glad you had fun, honey,” I said.
“Mommy. Don’t say GLAD like that.”
I glanced back just in time to see him roll his sweet little eyes. “Oh, why not?”
“I don’t like it when you say glad. It’s weird.”
“OK.”
“Don’t say OK, mommy.”
“What don’t you like about it?”
“It’s not OK and you’re not glad.”
Too scared to speak, I remained silent and kept my eyes on the road.
“MOMMY, TALK TO ME.”
“OK, what would you like to say? I’d be glad to hear anything.”
Too late, I realized my mistake. My son huffed and attempted to put his hands on his hips, something that proved too difficult within the confines of his carseat.
“I don’t want to talk anymore,” he said, leaning over and extending his right arm as far as it would possibly go to roll down his window.
That was four days ago, and the week has continued like that. “Glad” and “OK” are on my list of banned words, and so are “water”, “snack” and “Linnea” (his sister’s name). He also doesn’t like it when I stretch by touching my toes, or when I try to give him a high five.
I’m glad he has independent thoughts and opinions, I guess?