Forget the terrible twos. It's all about the terrible threes in this house - and it's a scary place to be, I can tell you. Youngest daughter has turned from Little Miss Sweetheart into Raging Bull, hellbent on arguing about absolutely everything. Which is rather wearying, frankly.
Yesterday, we had battles about the following:
which colour straw she would have in her milk
putting on shoes
getting in the buggy
whether or not it was a good idea to take her otter Sylvanian family out in the buggy (no, as it turned out, Mr Otter is now roaming free somewhere between our house and the school)
whether or not she needed a nap (yawning and resting her head on the table before screaming that she didn't)
whether or not she needed a wee (clutching herself and jiggling, yet still insisting she didn't)
not watching CBeebies
how many bits of broccoli she would eat for tea
whether or not it was nice to shout at the top of her voice when her brother was trying to concentrate on something
sitting on the naughty step for three minutes
staying in her bedroom for three minutes
going to bed early....
My God, I was surprised my hair hadn't turned white overnight. She is so bloody stubborn!
Thank goodness playgroup have got the pleasure of her company this morning, is all I can say. I'm already braced for the argument we're going to have about lunch... Anyone got Supernanny's phone number?
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