My boy. So if anyone told you that the two's are terrible, I beg to differ. I am finding three to be a tough road to haul. At times I feel like I am dealing more with a moody fourteen year old rather than a three and a half year old. The one big problem with this scenario is that you can at least rationalize with a fourteen year old. Not so much with a three and a half year old. So we are slowly but surely trying to wade through these waters together. In fact I sort of had an epiphany moment a couple of days ago which may come off as obvious but for me if put things into perspective. So here goes. When a baby is born so is a mother. So therefore Oliver is a three and a half year old boy and I am a three and a half year old mama. Sure I am clearly older than Oliver but I've only been doing this mom gig for three and a half years. That is not too long and I feel like sometimes I forget that. I forget that I am still learning new things about being a mom everyday. And some days as less pretty than others but we are stumbling along just the same. Perspective. What a grand concept which sometimes gets lost in the daily shuffle.
