Tantrums

It's not easy being three.

That's not actually what Kermit the Frog sang, but he certainly could have.  Because it's definitely been our experience so far. 

Don't get me wrong -- Alex is as cute as they get.  When she's cute.  But when she's not being cute, it brings to mind our friend Beth Sigall's comment, "The only thing worse than 'the terrible twos' is what follows -- threevil."  That's right:  Three + evil = "threevil." 

And I have looked into the face of threevil.

Take last night.  Jane had a leadership meeting for Gladney's National Capital Family Association last night, so I left work early and headed out to the Westwood Country Club to meet her and do a car swap.  (She got the BMW convertible; I got the Ford Explorer with two girls in car seats.  Fair trade?)  Ella-Anne was asleep (she does a lot of that -- she's seven weeks old), but Alex was despondent ("I want to go inside and see all the mommies!" she cried out in between shrieks). 

But she didn't get to go inside and see all the mommies.  Instead, I got in the car and started driving the girls back home.  To try to quell some of Alex's active sadness, I asked her, "How was school today?"  She responded, between sobs, "I don't like having a great time at school any more!" 

I just laughed.  This made her madder.  She sobbed and sobbed for about five minutes.  Then, approaching a red light, I got an idea.  "Give me your binky, please," I asked.  (The 'binky' is Alex's blanket.  She has three of them, almost identical, and her affection for them is no less intense than Linus Van Pelt's love of his own security blanket.)  "MY BINKY!" she screamed.  "No, I'm just going to borrow it."  So she handed it to me, I balled it up, and pretended to bonk myself in the head with it.  180 degree reversal.  Alex got a wide smile on her face and laughed, and said, "Again!"  So, since I am still Schmucky the Clown, I did it again, and then pretended to lecture the binky ("Oh, binky!  Don't bonk the Daddy.  Bad binky!").  Gut-busting laughs followed.  "Again!"  But the stoplight had turned green, and so I handed "the bink" back to Alex and said, "Only when the light is red."  Fortunately, I encountered only two more red lights on the way home; otherwise, I might have self-inflicted a concussion.

Another frustrating aspect of threevil is "running away."  It might happen at "jammie time," when Alex, instead of coming to Mommy or Daddy for help in getting her jammies on, runs away (sometimes adding "Chase me!").  Or, more nervously, it might happen out in public, at the grocery store or elsewhere.  We've -- speaking of stoplights -- started a bit of a game here.  "Red light!" one of us would say, and Alex is supposed to stop on a dime.  (I'd say 50% success rate at this point.)  "Green light!" and she can go.  "Yellow light!" means she is supposed to slow down.  And "Purple light!" means that Alex is supposed to stop where she is and do a crazy dance in that spot.  That's just funny when it works.  I wonder what other parents think when they see that.

At the same time, the principles of manipulation that Alex is learning occasionally have their upside.  Alex's efforts to delay her bedtime now include, "I need to give you a hug and a kiss!" or, more simply, yelling "Hug!" -- followed by running to me (or Jane) with arms outstretched. 

In that same vein, one of the best things ever is coming home, walking in the door, and having a little girl come running to the door, arms outstretched, yelling "Daddy!"  She leaps -- and I mean leaps -- into my arms, gives me a tight hug around the neck, and pats me on the back. 

It makes the tantrums worth it.  Almost.