Don't get my wrong-Tyson can still be as charming, precocious, and adorable as he's always been. It's just that he can also go from that charming cute little boy to one that's quite possibly possessed in less than the time it takes me to say, "wow." Please note, "wow" is a one syllable word. It's also only three letters long.
I present to you the evidence:
Exhibit A-morning wake up
Me: Morning Buddy!
Me: Did you have a good night sleep?
Me: I missed you while you were sleeping. Did you miss me? (yes, I realize I'm walking into this one)
Me: Let's get up and get our clothes on.
Him: NOOOO! NOOO! NOOOOOOOO! NOOOOO! ::insert screaming, crying and fit throwing::
Exhibit B-dinner time
Me: Time for dinner buddy
Me: Let's eat.
Me: Tyson we have to eat to grow big and strong.
Me: If you don't want to eat, you still need to sit at the dinner table with Mommy and Daddy. Him: NOOOO! DONE!!! NOOO! DONE!!! ::insert screaming, crying, and fit throwing::
Perhaps the above are only examples at our failing parental skills, but those same skills that send the kid into fits one day seem to work surprisingly well the next. Confusing, no?
We introduced time outs a few months ago, however, this too may be an example of failed parenting skills. Yesterday when I told him that we don't hit Lola and if he did it again he'd go to timeout, he happily ran to our time out area, sat down, and started counting his toes. Seriously. The kid put HIMSELF into timeout and COUNTED HIS TOES.
I've heard that three is actually harder than two. For that reason alone, I'm considering putting a down payment on a room at the local mental hospital just in case I need to put myself in a timeout during the next couple of years. If you see me in the corner counting my toes, please feel free to drive me there.