When I Wear Clothes, I Wear The Pants

Given the chance, I would most like to revisit age three. Way back then I was (in the words of my mother) a self-guided authoritarian, obstinate, spirited, assertive, and independent. Translated: Eccentric daily challenge sent directly from hell.

When asked what I wanted to be when I grew up, I responded with firm conviction, “An archaeologist or a palaeontologist.......or a crossing guard, ’cause they only have to work before and after school!” Obviously, salaries were a huge factor in my decision. A self taught expert on all things related to Egypt and dinosaurs, I treated anyone who asked to a lecture.

I was also a hopeful romantic, and spent a great deal of time scoping out prospective husbands. I once told a waitress that “(name removed to protect his identity) doesn’t want to marry me, so now I have to marry the Squirt,” alluding to my new baby brother.

Definitely not a go-with-the-flow kid, I was always the one to branch off and start my own stream, but NEVER before damming the river first. I was also the self-proclaimed leader of my own army, my weapons: an over active imagination and a disturbingly loud voice, the troops: my vulnerable parents.

Like Hitler, only cuter.....

My mother first sensed a pecking-order challenge when, at the tender age of three, I called her by her first name for several months. The arrival of my baby brother just weeks before my 3^rd birthday was the spark that set off the firework show of my curious behaviour. Through hell or high water, I was staying in the spotlight that had been trained on me my whole life. I started this by wearing what my parents now refer to as the “nightie from hell”. I refused to take it off for 6 weeks, deciding that everywhere I went, it would most certainly be in that Esmeralda nightgown.

At this time I was going through my tribal stage; trying valiantly to assert my warrior status within my parents’ home. The situation became so extreme that my mother had to make an “underwear must be worn at the table” rule. Naked with a princess crown, my motto was: I am preschooler hear me roar! To this day, I’m still trying to claim my God-given right to rule the house.
Yeah, I’d say I was a pretty average kid.
I definitely miss being three. There were no responsibilities like homework or a job, I was going to marry the boy next door, and I didn’t even have to wear clothes unless I was sitting at the dinner table! I was in charge and life was good.