THE BLOG

Secret Diary of a Threenager

08/07/2015 20:08 BST | Updated 08/07/2016 10:59 BST

Dear Diary

The Mother has been looking far too confident and relaxed lately, I need to remind her who's actually in charge around here. No more Little Miss Nice.

Over the course of one day I will bring this woman to her knees, with my simple Eight Point Plan.

1. The Rude Awakening

Wake early, wake loud. I find around 5:45am is best for maximum parental torture. I'll also wake up super grumpy, and refuse to do anything she asks.

Get dressed? Nope.

Eat breakfast? No way José.

Drink some milk? I don't think so woman, not in that colour cup anyway. Don't you know I want the red one?!? No, not THAT red one, the one I lost at the park last week! (Insert massive eye roll).

2. The Whys

Just three little letters, but a world of pain. Busting out the whys can cause the Mother serious anguish. Anything she asks, anything she tells me, I just respond with a curious little "why", with a cute head tilt, as if I really want to know.

I don't really want to know why; who actually gives a shit why it's Wednesday today, or why the floor is on the ground. But it's a proven fact that my constant and incessant whys will eventually drive her to the brink, and make her realise that she, in fact, knows nothing.

Please put your toys away, she says.

Why?

Because they are in the way there, and someone might trip over them.

Why?

Because someone might step on them there, and then fall over and hurt themselves. You don't want anyone to hurt themselves do you?

Why?

Because... it's not nice when people hurt themselves, is it?

Why?

Because... because I said so, that's why, JUST PUT THEM AWAY!!

Ha. I win.

3. The Melt-down for No Apparent Reason

I'm really looking forward to this part of the plan. I get to release all of my pent up three year old frustration and anger, and I also get to entertain my little brother. He especially loves it when I throw myself on the floor and start banging my head. It's a classic move you don't see too often these days.

If we're out at the shops then this phase is doubly effective, and is almost guaranteed to result in an ice cream for me, and a detour to the Off Licence for the Mother. Win win.

4. The Lunchtime Lottery

This stage of the plan sees me request something specific for lunch, then refuse to eat it, then ask for something else, refuse to eat that.... and repeat. Repeatedly.

I might decide to throw in a melt-down as well, but this melt-down will be different to the previous melt-down, because this time there absolutely is a reason for the melt-down, and that reason is that the Mother has screwed up my lunch order. Again. Seriously, get it together lady. How do you even function?

5. The Nap Offensive

I haven't quite decided yet if I'll refuse to have a nap altogether, so that I am a horrible, whingey mess by the end of the day, or if I initially refuse to have a nap, then fall asleep on the couch at 4pm, resulting in me being completely wired and virtually impossible to get to bed later on. Either strategy ends in the Mother pulling her hair out, so I'll just see how the day pans out.

6. The Art Attack

This phase of the plan sees me demand to do some arts and crafts, and then spread the paint, stickers, glue and/or glitter all over the house, before getting bored after five minutes and just wanting to watch TV instead. Nice.

7. The Dinner Debacle

This is a very similar strategy to the Lunchtime Lottery, with one significant difference - it involves the Mother doing actual cooking, and therefore results in even more frustration for her. By now she'll be almost at her wits' end. I'll be pretty exhausted too, but I must persevere through to the completion of my plan. It'll be totally worth it.

I might throw in some foot stamping with dinner to perk myself up a bit.

8. The Bedtime Dilly Dally

Now, this is a tactic that is well known to all toddlers and parents-of-toddlers around the world. An oldie but a goodie, as they say. The Bedtime Dilly Dally starts off with me getting super excited and wound up about 20 minutes before my scheduled bedtime, and then needing a dozen stories, seven songs, eleventy billion cuddles, a drink of water, a wee, another drink of water and possibly a cheeky bedtime poo, before finally falling asleep two hours after the 'alleged bedtime'. If I've had a sneaky late afternoon nap on the sofa then she'll be lucky if I'm asleep before 10pm.

Successful completion of my Eight Point Plan is guaranteed to result in the Mother ending the day curled up in the foetal position on the floor, wondering why she ever thought she was any good at this parenting thing in the first place.

My rightful place as the Queen of this house will be restored.

The next day I will be super sweet, say loads of cute and funny things, and give her lots of kisses and cuddles at unexpected moments, just to make her feel completely crazy, and to keep her on her toes.

Wish me luck, it's going to be a totes exhausting day!

Laters,

Little Miss Threenager

This article was originally published on Toilets aren't for Turtles as Secret Diary of an Australian Threenager.

For more like this, check out the blog at Toilets aren't for Turtles, or follow Mumma McD (Rachel McDougall) on Facebook and Twitter, as she blogs about the absurdity of raising her Little Miss Threenager, and her Terrible Two-Year-Old a.k.a. The Stuntman.