I’ll be the first to say to whatever parent told me a year ago that the 2s wouldn’t be so terrible, but watch out for the 3s…
You were right.
Still, celebrating No. 3 with my No. 1 girl last week was nothing short of amazing.
From a year ago as an active 2-year-old racing around Paradise Park, my now 3 and growing Adaline is talking nonstop, asking random and constant questions, questioning everything I do and, yes, bringing a little attitude to the table.
She’s not trying to act older or act younger. She’s 3. And it shows.
Some times she doesn’t get her way. She says "sorry." A lot. She constantly wants to know what’s for dessert and is telling me – as if she is in charge of this – how many more bites of her green beans she’s going to consume.
I probably buy her too many things, give in way too often to her whims and don’t enforce nearly the amount of "dad" type rules as I should.
Sometimes I am tough on her and it hurts. Other times, I wonder how this 3-year-old could have changed my life in such a positive way.
Most days, I just wonder how on earth I manage to feed her, do her hair and find matching socks. I’ve been known to deliver her to grandma’s house with shoes on the wrong feet.
With Addy now at 3, I have a few promises I need to make her. With the magic of the Internet, she ought to be able to go back and read this to hold me accountable.
I promise to, some day, get you a dog. It will likely be a basset hound or something low to the ground and gentle. You’ve had enough with the Chihuahuas.
I promise to be more patient with you as you transition from 3 to 4. But you have to promise to be a little patient with me, too. I will allow the latter to happen anytime after you turn 22.
Speaking of 22, that’s when you can start dating.
I promise to meet all of your friends and embarrass you accordingly as I taxi you around.
I promise to still play lots of 80s music, Dean Martin, Frank Sinatra, Beyonce and jazz music because, believe it or not, at 3 years old, you loved this stuff.
I promise to make you pancakes on the weekend.
I promise to share my bacon (that’s a big deal, I’ll explain this to you later).
And I promise you no matter what I am doing or what my mood, I will always indulge your requests for a "big hug and big kiss," even if it is for the 19th time during dinner while you’re avoiding the green beans.
John Beaudoin is the publisher of the Lees Summit Journal. To comment, call 816-282-7001 or e-mail firstname.lastname@example.org.