The Three-Year-Old Condition

It ain't easy bein' Three.

Friends!  How the heck are ya today?  Me?  Yeah, I could be doin' better!

Nothing in particular is really wrong.  Don't get me wrong.  Mostly, I can't complain.  I get enough to eat-n-drink.  I have a warm, safe place to sleep.  I have lotsa toys to play with.  I get to watch my favorite programs on the television when I wanna.

I even get to go places in public when it's appropriate!

The big, important things in my life are taken care of, and that's all going great.  It really, really is.

I really can't complain, Friends.  I really can't, but I'm pretty much gonna, anyways. 

Well, you know how it is. 

I'm three.  Being three means that I know I can do things that the Big People in my life say 'no way!' to.  For instance, they won't let me purchase my own in-app purchases in the iPad.  They won't let me bake my own batcha cookies.  They won't let me drive ANY of the cars, and there are definitely enough cars for me to drive just one. 

It ain't easy, bein' Three, Friends.  Not only do I not get to do any of the things I mentioned, but I also hafta wait for them to buckle me in and buckle me out of my carseat in the car.  Do you know how demeaning it is to hafta WAIT for adult intervention on a five-point racecar-inspired safety harness, insteadda bein' able to just hop out of the vehicle on my own, like the Big People do? 

And what really gets me, Friends, is that every single Big Person out there was a Three-Year-Old once.  Every single one of you.  So you'd think you'd remember how YOU felt when you weren't allowed to do things you wanted to do, because some Big Person said you're too little, and you wouldn't make little kids like me feel so... little.

I don't mean "you" as in you-you, Friend.  I mean Big People in general.  You know?

You know, I probly oughtta go, before I get all of you mad at me for lumpin' you in with my resident Big People.  I love ya lots, friends!  I'll see ya tomorrow!  Muah!