The Tiny Dictator Turns Three

Happy birthday to my beautiful, brilliant, absolutely tyrannical three-year-old!

The Tiny Dictator Turns Three

Sophie woke up this morning with a very clear agenda about how her birthday should go. Apparently I was wearing the wrong shirt (“Mommy, that’s not pretty”), Marcus made the wrong breakfast (“Daddy, I want PINK pancakes”), and the dog was sitting in the wrong spot (“Biscuit, move NOW”).

Three is apparently just two with better vocabulary and significantly worse impulse control. She’s gone from sweet toddler babble to full sentences that usually start with “No, Mommy” or “That’s not right.” I’m equal parts proud of her developing personality and terrified of what the rest of today holds.

Marcus keeps saying she gets it from me, which is both accurate and rude. I prefer to think of it as strong leadership skills emerging early. Either way, our little princess is officially three and ruling this house with an iron fist wrapped in a pink tutu.