3 is the New 12

Wifey and I were commenting the other night how age 3 is such a fun year. He’s running around, playing elaborate games with his cars, reciting books, singing songs (Aquabats, above) eating well, fully potty trained and saying ridiculously cute and profane things. Currently, his favorite retort to any question usually includes “poo-poo” and “shi-shi” (a.k.a. #’s 2 and 1, respectively). I’ve become a regular straight man in a dirty, juvenile comedy duo.

Me: What would you like for breakfast?
A: “Poo-poo!”
Me: What color is that jacket?
A: “Shi-Shi orange!!”
(cue peals of laughter)

I walk into these answers frequently. But when I enjoy a bowl of natto and rice, and ask what it smells like, he is locked and loaded with a correct answer.

I’m not overlooking the other stuff — the penchant to want to do everything himself, the shyness, the flip-floppery on sharing and brushing teeth — it can be a struggle. But overall, it’s all good and for all those people who said, “Wait until they turn 3-4, they’re a lot of fun” you’re absolutely right. When he refused to get out of the car until the song playing on the radio (the B-52’s “Butterbean”) finished, I was so proud I almost shed a tear.

Excuse me, but I got to prepare a Poo-Poo smoothie…

SD