Twos are Terrible, but Three is Just Plain Asshole

My friend Stacy was on the phone exasperated. She couldn’t quite put her finger on a description of her three-year-old son’s behavior.

“He doesn’t care. He just doesn’t fucking care. He tells me what I want to hear, and says, ‘Mommy, your hair is so pretty’ and its all bullshit. He tells us off and he’s just, he’s just…”

“An asshole.” I say giving her the perfect description for her toddler.

“Exactly!” she exclaims with a joy only felt through mutual understanding.

Every book, unwanted advice giver, family member, and all forms of media seem fixated on the terrible twos. Two-year-olds are tantrum-ridden demon spawn, but they don’t tell you what happens a mere 12 months later when their birthdays come around and two, two and a half, two and three-quarters, gives way to age three.

Today I will reveal the secret. I will lift this veil of fallacy. I will be the truth-teller who broadcasts the news to all who will hear me, and bring warning to those parents with sweet infants. Twos may be terrible, but at age three, your kid will turn into a complete asshole.

I remember waiting for the shit-storm that was supposed to be the terrible twos. Rachael was 26 months and still a pretty decent little girl. She would be fussy at times, but nothing awful. I thought for a moment that maybe I lucked out, and this whole “terrible two” thing was just one of those myths. The screaming and wailing seemed to come from out of nowhere. Rachael began kicking and flailing over something trivial sending chills down my spine as I knew I was looking at a bonafide terrible two.

We are less than a week away from Miss Rachael’s third birthday, and the tantrums are coming less and less. Unfortunately, the assholeness that is age three is taking hold with a vengeance. You can almost empathize with a two-year-old’s fits, because they lack the knowledge of language to verbalize their wants and needs, but by age three, they have not only mastered the spoken word, they know how to use it to get what they want.

Three-year-olds are masters of manipulation telling you exactly what you want to hear. I can’t even count the number of times I’ve sent Rachael to time-out only to hear her yelling, “I want to say ‘I’m sorry.’” She usually follows it up with, ‘I’ll be a good girl’ or ‘I love you, Mommy’. Of course the moment she is released from her three-minute time-out, she’s back to her same old bad behavior.

Three-year-olds are also completely narcissistic. They think only of themselves and walk around like mini emperors trying to test your limits. Stacy’s son will walk around the house during naptime telling his parents nonchalantly that he’s “sorry” about not hanging out in his room. Rachael will put her hands on her hips and tell me what she wants to do, and also inform me what I need to do.

“Mommy, make me peanut butter and jelly.” she’ll say. “I want it with some juice, and I want it now. Put it on the table.”

This is the same child who a mere two and a half years ago was my sweet, cuddly infant who would coo and smile and only fuss when she was hungry or wet. Now she can cry on command and throw herself against the couch in her best Vivian Leigh as Scarlet O’Hara moment. She will smile, act coy, and charm the daylights out of you, but if you cross her, Rachael will turn downright evil in two seconds. Frankly, it’s the damnedest thing I’ve ever seen.

We will celebrate her third birthday this weekend with all of the pomp and circumstance she has demanded and detailed extensively. However, I don’t know about the days that will follow. I will do my best to make that girl honest and put the kibosh on her asshole behavior, but like with everything else I’ve discovered in my parenting adventure, there will be no guidelines, no rules, and especially, no guarantees.