I’m listening to my mother and my brother discuss my daughter, and I can’t decide if I am thrilled or offended.

“She’s going to give you a run for your money.”

“She’s going to be the wild child.”

“The life of the party, breaking all the rules.”

“Battle of the wills. My money is on Princess Peanut- Erin, you’re going down.”

I just kept on slicing eggplant at the counter while they went on and on and on.

Needless to say the past few days with my 3-year old have been…let’s call them trying.

I’ve written about this before.Oh yeah and here. Oh…here too. And about 20 other times.

But she’s THREE.

3 sucks.

3 is worse than 2.

3 has phases.

3 can bite me.

3 can #suckit.

And so on. And so forth.

As I type this. our darling daughter is being sassy to her grandfather who made the mistake of trying to help her go potty.

NO.

I DO IT MYSELF GRAMPS!

And my Mom and brother are snickering from the couch and mentally pointing and laughing in my direction.

Everyone seems to be finding my ANGEL’s temper HILARIOUS.

High comedy.

The subject of very genuine belly laughs.

Me?

She might be more vocal than her brother before her…but no more difficult.

She’s certainly got more flair than her sibling…drama, shall we say…but no more difficult.

She is three. And three is killing me.

However…and this is a big HOWEVER…

I wrote the book on difficult.

The student must learn to respect the master.

The student needs to acknowledge the master.

The student still has a lot to learn about sass and manipulation.

If nothing else, Little Miss 3 needs a wait a few years before thinking she can take over the throne.