Mr. Contrary

It's been slowly building over the last few months--this metamorphosis of my third sweet child into a Hyde-like beast who is never satisfied with anything, and wants exactly the opposite of what he is offered.

I guess it comes with the parcel of a three-and-a-half-year-old. The Terrible Threes? Well, that's how it is with this child.

This morning, the now-typical conversation at the breakfast table went something like this:

Me: Jabin, sit up to the table; your hot cereal is ready.

Jabin: But I don't yike hot cereoh!

Me: Don't be silly! I've been giving you hot cereal every other day for the last three years, and you've always loved it! You can't tell me that you don't like it!

Jabin: Oh, okay. (Sits in his chair, somewhat pouty.)

Me: Would you like some raisins or nuts in your cereal?

Jabin: I don't yike waisins!

Me: (Rolling eyes.) Whatever.

Jabin: (after a pause) Mommy, can I have some waisins, pwease?

Me: (Insert internal scream of frustration here.)

I'm so glad that I know this won't last forever.

(I hope.)