Sometimes you can just tell your three year old is about to do something they shouldn’t.
“You stay there. You stay there. You stay there,” said Miss3 to myself and Tracey as she raced back into the house. Her little hand was held out in the universal ‘stop’ signal and her voice was as sincere as I’ve ever heard it.
“What do you think?” I asked Tracey.
We were sitting at the table on the balcony enjoying the view and each other’s company.
“I think,” said Tracey, standing up, “that staying here would be the wrong move.”
And she was right.
We found Miss3 in the kitchen hunched over a bag of sour coke bottles, giggling and shoving them in her mouth. They were leftover from Miss8’s birthday party on Saturday and obviously we hadn’t managed to hide them well enough.
Tracey pried one out of her hand and dug nine out of her little mouth. Talk about a sugar overload.
But she obviously didn’t managed to get them all – there must have been one or two still in her cheeks.
“Haha, I still ate them,” said Miss3 triumphantly as she raced out of the kitchen.
“Good to know the terrible twos are behind us,” said Tracey, “but I think we’ve reached the terrifying threes.”
We found Miss3 collapsed on her bed half an hour later, so I’m saying the last laugh is on her. The sweet, gorgeous, little shit.
If you enjoyed this post please share, like or comment.
It really does make a difference. Thanks.
“Raising a family on little more than laughs”