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The Other Side of the Threenager: A Delightful Journey
by Jordan Wells
Sep. 26, 2023
Nataliia Budianska / Shutterstock
I genuinely enjoy being the parent of a 3-year-old. There, I put that out there without a hint of sarcasm, and I truly mean it.
Allow me to elaborate. My daughter recently celebrated her 3rd birthday, and now when asked her age, she confidently holds up three fingers and proudly proclaims, “I’m three years old!” [emphasis hers]. This unique little individual, with her charming quirks, often experiences what I like to call “The Fire.” My partner and I have become adept at exchanging knowing glances when we sense The Fire is igniting, prompting us to swiftly take preventive measures—or at least to mitigate the chaos.
When Alice is engulfed by The Fire, nothing is safe: we usher the dog to safety, scoop up her oblivious baby brother, clear any throwable objects from her vicinity, and brace ourselves for impact. For what feels like an eternity (5 to 7 days, at least), she spirals into an uncontainable whirlwind of emotions and actions: hitting, biting, throwing, singing the Frozen soundtrack, and laughing hysterically, before finally settling down into a reluctant acceptance that the world around her is no longer in shambles.
Sounds familiar, right? But this behavior had been brewing for some time before she turned three, and I had stubbornly resisted the notion that her age would magically transform her into the tempest I’d heard so much about. After all, how arbitrary is it to segment children’s behavior into these vast 12-month increments based on the solar calendar?
The real eye-opener came during a grueling 36-hour stretch without preschool—though it felt like a time warp—early in my paternity leave with my son, Max. Alice had stopped napping just as Max began teething, and with the temperature soaring past 100 degrees in our usually mild town, I understood the harsh truth: my 3-year-old might just be my undoing.
If you’re currently parenting one of these vibrant little beings, or if you’ve bravely emerged from that phase, you’ve probably heard the common sentiment that the terrible twos are a misnomer, and that three is where the real challenges lie. You may have chuckled at the idea that threenagers are simply larger 2-year-olds, armed with more vocabulary, heightened emotions, and an uncanny knack for doing precisely the opposite of what is needed—especially during stressful moments for their caregivers.
I admit I may have been slightly overconfident. As Alice approached her third birthday, she was already a whirlwind of energy and curiosity, constantly testing boundaries and defying expectations. She began speaking early and never seemed to run out of things to say, often making up words and weaving them into conversations. While the language enthusiast in me finds it fascinating, the weary parent in me often wishes for just a moment of silence.
Alice ticks off all the challenging boxes for her age: temperamental, mischievous, and demanding. Recent examples include:
- When her baby brother Max was trying solid food for the first time, she loudly interrupted, “Who wants butter?!” and proceeded to squish a stick of butter between her fingers and take a bite.
- During a moment of emotional outburst, she slammed her bedroom door and declared, “I am Alice, and you are my family!” before adding, “And I am Moana!”
- She sobbed when her new puppet friend, Pickle the Raccoon, couldn’t accompany her to preschool, insisting we play puppet games every waking moment.
- In a display of defiance, she threw a bowl of beans on the floor, only to later pick them up one by one—complete with dog hair—and eat them as a sign of victory.
So how have I come to cherish this age? Let’s refer to it as “The Other Side.” While The Fire often overshadows it, there are countless moments that leave me in awe. For instance, when she reminds us to blink during a movie, or affectionately refers to us as “you guys” or “my people.” She often soothes her crying baby brother, and joyfully tells me, “Papa, my poop was so big! You are proud, right?” She even treats her stuffed burrito like a sibling, weeping while whispering tender words to it.
This fierce love for family and friends, the boundless energy she brings to her activities, her humorous fears about driving on “the freezeway,” and her heartfelt declarations of love remind me why I appreciate The Other Side. Those moments, whether it’s the butter escapade or her puppet antics, are cherished memories I find myself reminiscing about fondly.
In short, I genuinely love having a 3-year-old. If you’re interested in exploring topics related to parenting and even fertility journeys, be sure to check out our post on artificial insemination kits. You might also find expert insights on pregnancy invaluable.
Why do we even call them the terrible twos? Is it a reflection of changing parenting styles, toddler behavior evolution, or just a catchy phrase? The term seems shortsighted, yet perhaps that’s a necessary perspective for surviving the chaos of parenthood.
I love being the parent of a 3-year-old. Just check back in a few months to see if I’m still standing.
Summary
This article explores the complexities of parenting a 3-year-old, affectionately dubbed a “threenager.” The author shares humorous anecdotes and reflections on the challenging and delightful moments that define this stage. Despite the chaos often associated with three-year-olds, the author finds joy and love in their child’s unique personality and development. The piece also touches on the potential pitfalls of labeling toddler behavior and encourages readers to appreciate the nuances of parenting.