Nearly three
About a year ago, I was writing up a dozen lessons learned after Ted turned two. Somehow we’re here again and another twelve months have passed – so here’s what imminent parenthood of a three-year-old has taught me.
Can’t keep up
Ted is a super-active kid. He was walking at eleven months and climbing all over the place from one onwards. Nothing has changed now he’s three: we just have to build this into our parenting. You need lightning-fast reflexes and a well-honed sixth sense for his movements: knowing the furtive expression he develops when he’s about to slide out of his chair and make a dash for the doors of the cafe; remembering that when you’re trying to get him to come back, you have to approach him indirectly, almost without looking at him, otherwise his face breaks into a grin and he knows he’s tricked you into a game of chase.
This can be exhausting. We’ve come to accept that stuff our other parent friends do is more difficult for us – going to restaurants (at least, in a group) is basically an exercise in stress management, although even at the best of times, for the most obedient child, this is never a walk in the park.
But we’ve had more than a few tearful conversations starting “why are we finding it so much harder than everyone else?” before we accepted the obvious reality that everyone’s kid is different, and everyone struggles in their own unique ways with parenting. And in some ways, it’s reassuring when other people spend time with us while we’re keeping Ted entertained and comment for themselves how exhausting it can be. I don’t think he’s “hyperactive” or ADHD or whatever the current terminology is: he’s just quick-thinking, prefers to do things his own way, and fast.
Mood swings and meltdowns
The “terrible twos” really is a thing. Towards the midpoint of this age, Ted began to have frequent meltdowns at the most innocuous things: I sliced his banana in half before giving it to him, and he wanted it whole (“FIX IT!”). He’d lie on the floor yelling incoherently, crying at the drop of a hat. All standard toddler behaviour, but draining and frustrating to deal with. Trying to get a two-year-old dressed while they deliberately obstruct the process, only for them to triumphantly rip their socks off when you turn your back to find their coat is maddening. You need the patience of a saint to get through this stuff, but it does pass.
Ted’s also not very keen on dinner (though he’ll happily eat three separate breakfasts) and I’ll admit to struggling through many, many evening meals after adapting a recipe to suit his palate (no spices, limited salt etc) and see him push away a plate of innocuous pasta or rice without even tasting it, saying “I don’t want this”. We’re getting better at this, and again, it’s pretty classic toddler behaviour, but this can be the time when parenting really challenges you: you’re tired, you just want to get dinner on the table and then start the final phase of the evening, and the last thing you want to do is to persuade an unruly toddler that they want to eat some gnocchi. It’s also helped me realise that my own stress and anxiety with this part of the day will transfer onto Ted too: he knows when we’re stressed and struggling and he reacts accordingly – I can’t blame him.
At this age, your child really develops a personality and preferences that you realise you’re unable to influence or shape any more. It’s probably normal to start to panic that some habit they’ve developed is now set in stone for the rest of their existence, and worry you’re never going to spend a night without a toddler climbing into your bed at 2am and kicking you in the face/nuts for the remainder of the night. Some of this stuff is just a phase, and the rest… well, you have to accept that you can’t control everything your kid does, and they’re developing their own choices and personality – so go with it.
Build in some alone time
We don’t live near our family and therefore don’t get a huge amount of external support besides the days Ted spends in nursery. He sleeps well so we don’t do too badly there, but weekends can feel like a slog when we don’t have anything in the calendar and we’re bored of the park. One thing we’ve found that’s worked well for us is to divide and conquer: I’ll take Ted out solo on Saturday morning while Maddy does whatever she wants, then in the afternoon we’ll swap. Nobody’s resentful about being dragged to the park for the third time that week, you’re excited to see your kid when it’s your “turn” rather than knowing you’ve got an entire day of this, and you can actually get things done: haircut, eye test, gift shopping, whatever. We need to get better at remembering to do this, but it really makes a difference when we’re tired and need a break from parenting.
The opposite is true, though, too – share the load. Meet up with your mates with kids and embrace the mess, noise and chaos. One parent can keep an eye on all the kids while someone else makes the coffees/cocktails(?). Commiserating, swapping war stories and pretending you’re able to hold down conversation as the kids draw on the walls is oddly comforting when you’re all in it together.
Proud parenting
On the plus side, there are some amazing moments between 2 and 3 where you’ll put your kid into a situation, step back, and get to see them interact with the world using the tools you gave them. Ted loves stories and books and will happily recite them from memory all day long, and ask me to insert him as a character into the story I’m currently reading to him. I have to remember the voices of two dozen characters in his favourite books and be able to deliver them on demand, and there are at least three “cinematic universes” that I’ve accidentally created when making up stories to fill a rainy afternoon, all of which frequently overlap and cross over with each other (ask me about the time the Big Bad Wolf and his two wolf friends met Captain Hook and his banana-loving pet parrots, both called Polly).
In January 2022 I took Ted to a set of forest school classes with a professional storyteller who led the kids around the woods and acted out all kinds of tales, to the delight of the kids. Ted was so thrilled at guessing the story (the Three Little Pigs) early on that he jumped up and spontaneously played the role of the Big Bad Wolf, which delighted Malcolm (our storyteller) and the rest of the kids. I was standing at the back, grinning bashfully and watching my son confidently join in with a story he loved, because we taught him to love those books and characters. It’s stuff like this that makes the long rainy days and repeated kicks in the nads worth it – honestly.