Three must be the new thirteen. I didn’t think I’d have to answer tough questions this early, and they keep coming rapid-fire. “Mommy? How did I get in your belly? Did you eat me?” or “Mommy? Why is my poo brown? Why Mommy! Tell me why!”
And then we have the days when we don’t agree on what we should wear outside. And sometimes my answers aren’t that great. Like today when we were battling about what one boy should wear, I found there really is no reason or good answer why you can’t wear two different boots.
At least they were wearing boots, because there were puddles at the farm. Puddles full of cow poo. Which is brown and looks like mud.
Why do boys gravitate to puddles? Why? Why? Why? And why do these crazy 3-year old battles make me feel like one of these?