The Kid had a playdate over and the 3-year-old thought “you know what…now would be a perfect time to completely lose my shit.”
So she cried for an hour because the boys wouldn’t play with her and because she missed her mom and because she still can’t believe they tried to reboot MacGyver and for a hundred different reasons. Eventually, she calmed down when she thought she was locked in her room. The door to her room doesn’t have a lock. If it did, I’d find reasons to lock myself inside. “I’M PLAYING DOLLS! GET LOST!”
She slammed the door in anger, and it jammed into place, and she’s too small to push it open on her own. I tell her all the time when we’re at the gym “work your upper body, it’s not all about squats!” but fucking 3-year-olds think they know everything about everything! She cried until she calmed down and laid on the floor with a few stuffed animals.
I joined her on the carpet because I’m not going to pass up any opportunity to get horizontal. We stared into each other’s eyes for five minutes and then she asked to watch YouTube Kids.
It feels as though I blinked and The Kid turned 7 and it feels as though she’s been three for about 20 years.
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