Those weren't Grace's exact words to me today, but you get the picture. Oi. What a day. To say that she woke up on the wrong side of the bed really doesn't capture the degree to which she has been a grouchy--even mean spirited--little three year old. The twos have nothing on three. Three year olds match their larger vocabulary with even bigger attitude...or at least mine does. Mild and pleasant threes may exist out there, I just don't have one.
In any case, after a morning of dumping oatmeal, kicking Ollie, screaming on the porch, and generally being a pain, I was ready for a break. In comes daddy and the following conversation occurs:
Daddy: "Grace, what's going on here?"
Grace: "I don't like mommy."
Daddy: "That's a mean thing to say. Why are you being so mean to mommy?"
Grace: "I am mean to her because I love mommy."
Here's the kicker. I totally get what she's saying. In fact I remember feeling that way about my own mom (when I was fourteen). That's the deal with being a mom--Grace feels so secure in my love for her that she can be hateful towards me. I was the same way with my mom (but again, I was a lot older...and for those wondering I have apologized to my mom for my behavior numerous times since Grace's birth). Okay, so I understand her sentiments, but jeez, it sucks to be on the receiving end. I know what you're thinking, just wait till the kid's a teenager, this will all be a blissful memory.
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