Holy crap. We definitely have a threenager. Owen was with Tom this morning getting a haircut and wasting time until Best Buy opened. He. Was. Awesome. The whole time. He even earned a treat at Big Lots. He was the picture perfect child.
Until.
They pulled in the driveway and got out of the car. Instant tantrum.
Seriously?
Nothing had happened.
He didn’t want to take his jacket off. He didn’t want to take his shoes off. He didn’t want to show me his new gun. He didn’t want to play his game (which he had banked a lot of time on for being so good). And on and on.
We were pretty sure he was just hungry so wanted him to eat breakfast.
NOOOOOOO!!!
Okay, a snack, then?
NOOOOOOO!!!
Crackers? Your favorite?
NOOOOOOO!!!
Okay, then you at least have to go sit at the table. (Which usually is a good way to kind of trick him into wanting to eat.)
NOOOOOOO!!!
I started my count: 1…2…3. Wow, I got to three. I rarely get to three. Which means I had to manhandle him to the table. Thankfully Tom was right there so he did it.
NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Oh my gawd. The tears and whining and drooling and non-stop screeching.
Owen, eat your breakfast.
NOOOOOOO!!!
Owen, please drink your milk or eat some yogurt.
NOOOOOOO!!!
Owen, what do you want to eat?
/unintelligible whining/
Owen, what do you want to do?
I’M NOT HAPPY!!!!!
/Cutting out about 10 full minutes of back and forth and lots of tantrum-y goodness./
Owen, if you don’t calm down, you’re going to your room.
At which point…he ended up in his room.
Long story short (yes, this is the short version)…about five minutes later we checked on him and he was calmed down enough to leave his room…and then he was happy as a clam and you’d never know he had even been whining.
SERIOUSLY?!