Terrible two give way to the magical threes. That's what they said in my childhood development class. Well, I am learning that text books are much easier to write than children are to raise.
There is nothing terrible about being two. There is a whole lot of emotion, a whole lot a energy, a whole of charm and a whole lot of "time out." My first child (of two first children) is an intense, bright and tender child. Luke and I are struggling to help him learn how to manage himself and grow into a secure, loving, selfless person. I have learned to live by the feed it, rest it and run it model. Laine can go from irrational meltdown to charming in one granola bar. For twelve whole months I kinda understood this complex being.
Now, we are entering a new phase. Magical threes. I love this age. I frequently get assigned a character for the day, and am not allowed to deviate. This morning Laine cryptically asked for the "crab thing." Once I discovered that he was asking for my kitchen tongs, he spent the next hour giggling and chasing me around "getting" me. I love that he gives concerts that are so passionate and extended that he gets blisters. I love that he offers to start prayers at youth group (daddy's "kids"). I love that he lives fully and abundantly.
What I don't know/love/understand is the new aggression, need for control and struggle for self and space. The poor child got a glimpse of college football last Saturday and I had to put him outside. He about tore the house down. I am praying daily for wisdom, patience and humor. I am not sure what each new day will bring, but I do know that this great calling to parenthood is worth the incredible levels of confusion and uncertainty. Sure, I miss the toddler, but I am so thrilled by the person that is appearing before my eyes that it is certainly worth it!
I just wish he would quit appearing before my eyes after bedtime...
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