Challenges

I remember hearing once that three is harder than two, and at least for this kid (or this mama) it's true. The boy who honestly never had a tantrum the first three years of his life is suddenly and fantastically making up for it. Lots of aggression and anger, usually aimed at me (except the day last week that Daddy took a sandwich between the eyes). So I'm trying to step back and take stock. It doesn't help that he was sick last week and I'm sick this weekend, sore throat and coughing like a fiend and with nothing but a scratchy joke of a voice. (Actually, maybe that does help...it means I have to whisper, even when I'm at wit's end, which is probably a really, really good practice.) Oh yes, friends, here we are in the thick of it. But! In other news, look at that sweet new homemade shirt from Aimee and Edie! We got it the same day a personalized trike license plate arrived from Gran...pics to come...and Gran, as soon as I can talk again, we'll call to thank you officially. Sidenote: I have to admit to a misplaced fondness for personalized kid stuff, perhaps because my own name, while not unpopular, is so differently spelled that those enticing and ultimately disheartening racks of keychains and rainbow heart pins never, ever held a single thing for me, so that I ended up with one roll of stickers once that said "Superkid," which lasted me until well into my teens (because good lord who wants to be caught dead touting themselves as a Superkid?) while the ubiquitous Sarahs and Jessicas and Jennifers and Amys of my youth personalized their Trapper Keepers and locker mirrors and Garfield diaries with pride and enviable abandon. Sigh. But I digress! Three! I bet it just keeps getting harder!