|How can this face be a beast? Turns out very easily...|
For Wesley, threes = outright defiance. We've been trying to curb the ridiculous amount of unnecessary potty language ("What do you want for dinner?" "A butt sandwich." Right, I know, funny the first time, not so much now) with both kids. Dawson went to timeout once today because of potty language. Wes went three times. Oy. On top of that, Wes is a thrower and a hitter. Tell Wesley to go to timeout for potty words, and he's likely to try to hit you or throw a toy on his way there (or, today in his prime, do both). I'm not 100% sure that timeouts are even what he needs, since he either flat out refuses to go, or throws a fit while going, or worse, sits there and smirks. Yes, smirks.
And then he has his moments like this - sleeping soundly, snoring quietly, with his still-baby cheeks and lips, and it totally makes my uterus ache* and I forget what an absolute dick he was today!
|*Not enough to actually have another kid, though|