Life with a Three-Year-Old Preschooler

“Mama,” he pleads, “Where is Dada?”

“Dada is at work.”

“Noooooo,” he whines, “I don’t WIKE work.”

He started to collapse, melting into the floor, so I swooped him up into my arms. Immediately, he started crying harder.

“NOOOOO,” he cried, “I don’t WIKE up!”

“Oh. I’m sorry,” I replied, setting him back on his feet.

A moment went by. A pause. A breath of air.

“Mama. I want UP pwease. I wike up!”


So I picked him up, cuddled him, kissed him on the forehead, and took a deep breath. That’s just life with a three year old.

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