The Threenager

This is what THREE looks like:

IMG_1981 IMG_1983Because yes... Thing 2 is officially three years old now.

We call him our THREENAGER, because he’s actually three… going on fourteen.

We also worry that being a threenager will become the time that he perfects his talent for Vandalism With A Spray Can, because, while Hubs and I were very busy brushing our teeth in the bathroom on Friday morning, Thing 2 found the can of Pam cooking spray in our pantry.  I think it goes without saying that he used it liberally and greased up the hardwood floor in our kitchen to some level between VASELINED PIGLET IN COUNTY FAIR PIG WRESTLING and THE BOTTOM OF CLARK GRISWALD’S SAUCER SLED.

Y’all!  I’m lucky to still be here, with both of my hips fully in tact.  I stepped onto the oil spill in our kitchen bright and early on Friday morning, and did some sliding that’s usually reserved for those times that the ski slopes open up their runs to kids on sleds.  At the speed I was traveling, I should have had lightning bolts and sonic booms behind me.  My arms flailed like windmills on crack, until I finally came to rest against the far wall of the kitchen, all in one piece.

I actually looked exactly like one of these… in a hurricane:

thHad I been in a parking lot, I could have attracted the attention of every motorist for fifty miles, and drawn their attention to the nearest stack of on-sale snow tires.

Jesus, be near.

When I came to rest against the far wall of our kitchen, panting and trying to catch my breath as I assessed the pulled muscles to determine if I’d ever be able to do professional gymnastics again, I realized that seven square acres of our hardwood floors were shining as brightly as the sun, slicked up in non-stick grease.

I asked Thing 2 about it.

He said, “It was a accident, Mommy.  Just a accident.  I need a kiss.”

And like a sucker-punched arresting officer, I gave him his plea deal.  I kissed him, because he puckered up his tiny little lips and looked too cute NOT to kiss.  And then Hubs and I set about the business of using a bowl of Dawn dish soap to cut the grease, which was chased by some steam mop action.

By 7:00 on Friday morning, my kitchen floors were so clean, it looked like the fairy godmother and her magic wand had come to visit us.  That’s when I pulled Thing 2 aside and gently explained to him that if he EVER sprays Pam all over every square inch of my kitchen floor again, I will find a retired Marine drill sergeant to take him in as a foster child.

The rest of our weekend could be considered low-key, compared to our slippery escapades on Friday morning.  We tossed down a couple of birthday parties to celebrate Thing 2’s arrival into his threenager year, as we had dinner at home one evening and a toddler-filled party another afternoon.  I’ll have to dish up the snapshots (Because OF COURSE THERE ARE PICTURES!) on another night this week, because MaMaw just ain’t got it in her to sort through her memory card right now.

That could be directly related to the fact that the time sprung forward last night and robbed me of an hour, which really didn’t matter, because Thing 2 was really and truly and literally awake ALL! NIGHT! LONG!  By my best guess, that toddler slept four-and-a-half hours.  He had just come off the raw excitement of a friend-filled birthday party, where we fed them sugary cake, and he had a new pile of birthday gifts to play with.

He slept quite well from 8 pm to 10:30 pm… and then he got himself out of bed and hollered, “I took a good nap!”  Which was code for, “I’m all rested up, so I’d like to have another look at that new tractor-shaped flashlight and the monster truck and that book on all the construction equipment that I brought home as party loot a few hours ago.”  The subtitle was, “I’m a Threenager Now, So I’m Staying Up Late Like Fourteen-Year-Olds Do.”

Bless his heart.

He went back to sleep at 2:30 this morning, which was the OLD 2:30, because by then the clock had already made the jump to 3:30 in the morning, and I was pretty much a messed up sack of exhausted emotions, rocking back and forth in the corner.

Anyway.

Today was a new day with new mercies, and I was in love with our toddler once again… when he got up at 5:30.  Since the day was so gorgeous, I took the boys on a big walk this afternoon.  We needed some fresh air.  We needed to stretch our legs.  We needed to physically EXHAUST the toddler, so that his first choice of things to do tonight was going to be SLEEP.

IMG_2184 IMG_2187 IMG_2192 IMG_2188 IMG_2189 IMG_2195 IMG_2197 IMG_2199We walked and we walked and WE WALKED in the sunshine this afternoon, until Thing 2’s short little legs cried out for us to stop.

As we were near the homestretch, that kid actually laid down on the sidewalk and said, “I so tired!”  Another couple and their son were walking by us at that exact moment, and the mom said, “Don’t you just love when toddlers utter that phrase out loud?!”

Yes.  Yes, I do.  Because here’s to hoping that I SO TIRED translates into I’M JUST GONNA LIE DOWN HERE ON MY BED AND I’LL SEE YOU IN TEN TO TWELVE HOURS.

Y’all have a good Sunday night.

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