It’s Tough Being Three

There are a couple phrases I’ve used.  The first is what I’ve been telling my three year old granddaughter – “It’s tough being three.”  For those that think it’s the “Terrible Two’s” haven’t had a three year old.  They are much more independent, have better language skills, know exactly what they want and don’t want, aren’t as easily distracted, and these dictators known as parents tell them no.  It’s a transition year and it’s tough to learn you can’t always eat candy and you have to look before you cross a street and you have to watch something other than Frozen every night.

The other phrase I’ve used is – “The difference between a 19 year old and 3 year old is height.”  It’s also a transition time, they’ve become much more independent and the world is about them.  It’s tough to parent or tell a 19 year old anything they don’t want to hear.  Sort of like a three year old…

There are times when I wish for the simplicity of life when you were three or the naiveté of early adulthood.  The focus of your life is, with notable exceptions, easy and filtered.   It’s not that the pain isn’t real, it’s just tends to be self-serving and internally-focused pain.  It’s how the world affects ME.

Most of us have lived long enough to understand life is more complex.  We’ve lived through job dissatisfaction, maybe dismissals or other decisions that led to serious financial implications.  We’ve been through or known people with not just boo-boos, but serious life altering medical issues.  Likely we’ve lost loved ones and felt pain that doesn’t go away at the end of the day.  We understand that “kiss it and make it feel better” doesn’t always cut it.  We’ve faced challenges and hurts and obstacles that create resentment, anger, or questioning.

I tend to be a positive person but I have a lingering side that wonders what’s next?  What will be the next thing that will cause heart ache?  I know that I enjoy simple things more, because I also know that there will be future hills and valleys in this adventure we call life.

The other night my son was putting my granddaughter to bed and she said to them, “You know it’s tough being three.”  And 33 and 53 and 83…

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