life this side of three.

When I was growing up, it seemed that Moms with kids three and older, had it going on. It seemed that by that point, they knew what was going on and could handle any situation thrown their way.

Strangely enough, when my baby turned three, I didn't feel at all that way.

Most days she hands me at least two situations where I scratch my head and wonder what the hell just happened. She says things that I swear an eight year old shouldn't say, and she knows things that even I don't know.

It's sort of ridiculous.

When she goes to bed at night, I literally collapse because my brain is absolutely throbbing from the mental tests she has put me through the day.

Those Moms I watched growing up? I am so sorry for not cutting you any slack. I should've bought you a drink.

Then there's the older side of a three year old. The side that I absolutely, positively cannot get enough of.

This little 3 1/2 foot creature that resides in my house is the funniest person I've ever met. From shouting out "you're doggone right!" at the most inopportune times, to making up completely off the wall songs, I spend a good portion of my day in hysterics. Sometimes that's not a good thing; like when I'm trying my hardest to discipline her but she's pulling out one of her jokes and for the love of all that is holy, I give in and laugh every time.
the day she turned threeShe's funny. She knows it. I swear she thinks it's a weapon.

She's also smart. As a whip.

She was moved up to 3K early and she is loving that fact. At least once daily we hear "I'm in 3K now because I'm 3. And because I'm smart!". Humility will be something we work on later.

But I love her confidence. I love when she blurts out "I'm funny!" when we tell her she's not (this is usually in reference to the fact that she already thinks humor can get her out of everything). I love that she already knows what she's good at. She's good at funny. I secretly hope she always is.
cupcakes for breakfast on her birthdayShe's still a fan of music and more often than not is asking me to "turn it up!" or squealing "I just love this song!".

She's still cautious in situations she's not sure of tending to stick between my legs on those occasions, but it doesn't take her long to warm up. And when she does? there won't be a stranger in the room because she'll quickly let you know who she is followed by at least ten minutes where she'll tell you as many words as she can get in before you leave.

She's a talker that one.

My drives home with her are filled with stories of what her little friends did at school and almost daily I laugh to myself when I remember how I used to do the same thing. Growing up it frustrated me to no end that my Mom would tell me "Megan, I don't know any of these people" but now, well I feel the same. Though I let her tell the stories anyway. The mantra "all the things she's telling you are big things to her" runs through my head as I nod along and just try to keep up with what Sophia, Collin, and Eden did today.

I never can keep up.
The words come a mile a minute and I try to remind myself to soak it in because I know she won't always talk to me like this. I'm not perfect though. There are times she and I have to separate because we're no longer bringing the good out in each other. It happens.

She's my sidekick. She's my heart and soul. She can also be a pain in my neck. But truthfully, I wouldn't have it any other way.

And the days where we've butted heads all day and ended on a bad note, well, those disappear when I sneak into her room and look at those baby cheeks (one of the last bits of baby on her) with those long eyelashes resting on them and those sweet, chubby hands curled underneath. She's so, so cool.

Life this side of three is tiring, but good grief it's also all sorts of awesome.