All Hail the Power of Three

Three is the best number ever. I'm convinced, or at least I was until it actually got here. Don't get me wrong. Three is good, very, very good. Perhaps just not as magical as they claim.

All those labels on toys that read "For Ages 3 and Up." I totally took those to heart. "Woo-hoo!" I thought, "We're no longer relegated to giant wooden blocks, Legos the size of bricks, and fabric-only dolls sadly reminiscent of aging 70's sock monkeys."

My mind was filled with visions of my soon-to-be-three-year-old twins happily playing with girly dolls with shoes and coats and handbags, leaving the tantrums of the terrible twos behind, and accepting pink flowery stickers as rewards for their good behavior. I could maybe even see a vision of us going to the grocery store, strollerless and serene.

Fool that I was.

Those toy labels really should read, "Absolutely, positively, not ever, under any circumstances, for any child under three. Maybe, maybe, in some cases, for children who are technically three, nearing four, and whose parents have bewitched them into not putting any non-food item into their mouths."

This unfortunately, does not describe my children, wonderful as they are. In fact, I managed to retrieve one dolly shoe from the mouth of Baby K just moments before it was unceremoniously swallowed as part of a pretend meal. I still haven't been able to find its mate.

Really, I should have known that just turning three held no magical power to stop them from eating doll shoes or putting dirty flip flops in their mouths or feeding each other things off the floor, but a girl can dream. Right?

And, oh yes, speaking of dreaming, I never dreamed what phase would come after the tantrums of the terrible twos. It's the Yeah-Right-Time-Out's-Not-So-Bad phase. Trust me, if they knew what the finger meant, they would give it to me. Brazenly. And smile.

Admittedly, it's way better than the tantrums of the terrible twos, and indescribably better than the constant sleep deprivation of infancy. All in all, it's pretty good, amusing really, with Baby Z saying "My heinie did it." and "I can't believe my eyes!" and Baby K saying "I have super powers."

Their imaginations are in full bloom, with monkeys chasing us down city streets and dragons prancing through our living room. They tell each other stories at bedtime, wake each other in the morning, and tuck one another in for pretend naps in the afternoon. They're not babies anymore, and even though there are things I will miss and things that are different than I expected, three is really hard to beat.