Three Year Old won’t stop yelling. Seriously. He won’t. stop. yelling.
And when he’s not yelling, he’s whining. All the live long stinkin day.
To be fair, he just wants to be listened to. And he wants to talk. He wants to be in charge of all of the talking, in fact. After all, why should other people have to talk, he obviously is a pint sized genius that needs to be paid attention to. What all this adds up to, is every single time a thought enters his head, it has to come out. At a higher octave than I’d prefer. And if he thinks you’re not listening, he just starts yelling your name. Loudly.
And, the thing is, you might actually be listening. But unless you’re making eye contact with him, he doesn’t believe you. So you, litrally, have to stop what you’re doing and look to him in his eyeballs. For some reason, he especially wants to share his wisdom with Seven Year Old, so I wake up most morning hearing him holler, “SEVEN YEAR OLD, SEVEN YEAR OLD, SEVEN YEAR OLD, SEVEN YEAR OLD!!”
(Don’t tell husband, but I recognize that there is sort of poetic justice in all this, because I’ve been known to ask people to look at me when I’m talking. But not because I’m bossy. Because I’m A.D.D. and I can’t listen to someone unless I’m looking at them. So when people aren’t looking at me, I think they aren’t listening, and it’s such a distraction that I can’t talk…) (Though, for the record, I don’t stand there yelling, “HUSBAND, HUSBAND, HUSBAND!” until he looks at me…)
Oh, and the other thing is, I am super sensitive to noise. Super. Sensitive. It hurts those A.D.D. brains of mine. You know those moms who can sit right beside their toddler while they mash the button on that loud, obnoxious toy and not notice? Yeah, that’s not me. That toy is either designated a “bedroom only” toy, or it’s disposed of. Asap.
I’m trying to remind myself that there will positively absolutely be a time when I will miss this. And miss him. And miss the noise and ridiculousness that is my current reality. And I’m trying to be more present and savor the sweeter moments.
Like how, while writing this, Three Year Old walked up and said, “Mom, 1 bitsy bitsy thing (holds up one finger) Dat I love you, (holds up second finger) and … (kisses me on the arm).
I guess he’s not all that bad. ;)