“Don’t talk to me!”
“No! I want Bella to do it! I want Dadda to do it!”
Three really is the craziest age. I don’t know why people call them the terrible twos. Two doesn’t hold a candle to the sheer insanity that is three.
Sophie has the most volcanic mood swings. (It doesn’t help that she’s been sick.) We try to be patient and take it in stride; but it is hard when she yells: “Don’t talk to Me!” or “I’m not Sophie, I’m Cafrin!” She refuses to answer to her name and we absolutely must address her by whatever pretend name she’s currently adopted or she won’t answer.
“Call me Catherine!”
“I’m a baby!”
“I’m a girl!”
“NO! Call me my name!”
Usually I play along and call her whatever name she’s currently wanting to be called; but when she’s screaming and I’m trying to get her to do something sometimes I’ve just had enough. I put her into her room and tell her not to come out till shes read to be pleasant. And when she does calm down and comes out, she gives me the most angelic smile, she pets my arm, she gives me a hug. You’d never suspect she was the same girl who was howling. I suspect this is the sentiment behind the perennially popular nursery rhyme:
There was a little girl
Who had a little curl
Right in the middle of her forehead.
And when she was good
She was very, very good
But when she was bad
She was horrid.
But I’m still baffled by the strength and ferocity with which she clings to the make-believe names. She seems to especially grasp at them when she’s being reprimanded. As if by being Catherine she can escape the reprimand that she earned as Sophie. Does anyone else’s three year-old do that?
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