My son is about to turn three in a few weeks. A few months ago I started to get excited. Was it the idea of having a fun Pump it Up party? No. Was is the thought of getting to go shopping for the 3T summer clothes? No. Was it nostalgia at the notion that my little baby was another year older? No, none of those things were making me excited. My anticipation was building and building because I knew that we were approaching the END of Terrible 2’s! Yay! Finally…FINALLY I get my sweet, adorable, cherubic child back. The one that looks up at me with his sweet face, asking for “more please, mommy,” and “I love my mommy, she is the bestest mommy in the whole world.” Yes, I was getting excited for the end of a tough, terrible, power-struggle of a year. What’s that? My son isn’t giving any indication that he’s coming out of this hell on earth called being 2 years old? I’ve never heard of the terrible 3’s….is that new? No, no, no, no, no, no, NOOOOO!!!! This wasn’t part of the deal! Now, he’s smarter, faster, sassier, more talkative and has developed better reasoning skills. So what does that make him? A formidable opponent. That’s what all that makes him! Ugh. Wish me luck…this train ain’t showing any signs of slowing down. No, it looks like we’re actually dumping the coal in the incinerator and speeding up. So move outta the way…we’ve got a 3 year old barreling through, and a stressed out, underpaid, under-appreciated mom chasing after him.