My Princess

Avery Brooke (or Emma as her Grampy likes to call her for some insane reason) is rapidly approaching her THIRD birthday. How that’s possible, I haven’t quite figured out… It really does feel like she was JUST born.

And, as so many of my wise-beyond-their-years SAHM friends have pointed out, three year olds can be a LOT more challenging than the infamous “terrible twos.” I know I’ve lived through these years once before with my darling devil Damon… but honestly, I don’t have nearly enough memories left of those years, and just HOW challenging they were!

Luckily (?!?!), Avery is here to remind me, on a daily basis.

At almost 3, Avery has discovered fighting with her brother over every little blasted thing… I swear, they used to get along so well and played together so nicely… but those days have become a thing of the past. If Bubba has it, Avery wants want… and a WWF match will surely follow. If Bubba wants to play a video game, Avery wants to watch a movie. If Bubba wants to watch a movie, Avery wants to watch cartoons instead. If Bubba wants the green sippy cup, Avery wants the green sippy cup (nevermind that she has its twin, only in orange).

At almost 3, Avery has decided that going to bed at night is just an all-around BAD idea. Gone are the days when she marches into her room, climbs willingly into her cute little toddler bed, gives me a hug and kiss, says “Night, Mommy!” and drifts off to sleep peacefully cuddling Bear. So gone. I can’t even begin to describe the scene of horror that unfolds in this house between the hours of 8pm and 10pm these days. But I’m quite certain that if someone from Child Protective Services just happened to knock on my door at that time (or even worse, one of her grandparents!), I’d be carted away off to jail, or put in a straight jacket, and locked away. Quite certain.

At almost 3, Avery has mastered the art of temper tantrums. Anytime I tell her something she doesn’t want to hear or something doesn’t go exactly her way, she proceeds to jump into the air, pulling her feet in front of her, and landing as hard as possible on her bottom. Then, there are ear-piercing screams… oh, and her face turns ten shades of red, and if it’s really bad, she shakes a little. It is a terrifying thing to witness… and this probably happens a dozen times a day (in rapid succession at bedtime, see above).

(Missy, are you sorry you didn’t read this about 10 or 11 months ago?? lol Don’t worry, dear, I’m sure Hailey will be a perfect angel and never act in such a horrid manner. bwahahaha, yeah, you go ahead and keep telling yourself that! *evil grin*)

Okay, so I’ve presented plenty of compelling evidence that my daughter is, in fact, devil spawn.

And now, after ALL that, I plan to disprove it with one simple photograph:

How could that sweet princess be anything short of wonderful?!?!?

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