My firstborn will soon be three years old. Not three weeks or three months: 3 whole years old. It’s sneaking up on me and I’m not quite sure I’m ready. The age-old saying about time being a thief? It has never felt more real than during that loud and clear transition from age 2 to age 3. Call me emotional, but I would go so far as to say this is the epitome of bittersweet.
Even though I’ve only been a mother for a few years, I can imagine how time flies when you have a child – or children – of any age. But are you watching your little human grow from 2 to 3? It almost feels like we are catapulted straight from the smallest years into full-fledged childhood. Maybe you can understand it if you are a co-mom of a 2-3 year old.
The start of 2 feels like yesterday
It seems like I just planned my daughter’s second birthday. We didn’t throw a family and friends party like we did for them first, but we went all out in our own special way. We decorated our playroom with climbing toys that she became interested in, filled the house with helium balloons, and ate several rounds of cake and ice cream. We planned a weekend trip full of new things for our girl – like feeding lorikeets up close at a bird sanctuary. We brought her favorite and beloved cuddly toy with us Paci along for the adventure.
Since then, these climbing toys have become second nature. We no longer smile at the sight of floating balloons, but instead demand specifically named, masterfully tied balloon animals. We went from messy cake frosting and licking ice cream to helping crack and pour eggs into homemade brownie batter. We went from feeding sanctuary birds up close for the first time to second and third times – riding ponies without fear or hesitation. We’ve gone from holding favorite stuffed animals to holding favorite puppy and unicorn handbags filled to the brim. And the beloved Paci? We moved on. That’s it. I never thought I’d say it, but sometimes I actually miss it. Or at least the depiction of that fleeting and precious childhood that, in hindsight, came with it.
This phase wasn’t terrible – it was magical
People talk about it Groups of two as if they were “terrible.” As if 2 was a year that you had to brace yourself for and persevere. But in my honest opinion, there is so much more to 2. There is an explosion from every little spark of magic that I never want to ward off. A blast of vocabulary. An explosion of personality. An explosion of autonomy. A burst of love, laughter, awe-filled moments and for me the essence of a happy life. Not a day goes by that I don’t look at my soon-to-be three-year-old daughter in awe and tell her that she is my dream come true. Because she is. This is 2. And it’s incredible.
When I was 2 years old, my little girl was my baby. Of course it still is – and always will be in a sense – but it’s not quite the same. The closer we get to 3, the more my heart feels things changing. My arms can feel things changing because they do. Not in a bad way, but in a way that’s really hard to believe. At the start of 2, much of every day (and night) featured full weapons: mine. Rocking to sleep. Carry. Hold. Now there is still a lot of carrying and holding. But my future three’s arms are full. Packed with baby dolls to care for, picture books to read independently, and self-selected outfits, accessories, and sparkly red shoes to wear. All alone again. Because that is the essence of the transition from 2 to 3.
The transition from 2 to 3 happens too quickly
Every moment I get to witness my daughter come into her own, ever-evolving identity is a wonderful gift. But sometimes (okay, most of the time) it feels like it’s happening way too fast. At the beginning of 2 we worked on phrases and sang simple songs in repetition. Now we are in the age of questioning everything (literally) and self-initiated, completely independent storytelling. At the beginning of 2, we were still on the younger end of our mommy and me baby gymnastics group. Since then we have moved on to twirls, plies, first concerts and anything tutus and ballet related.
At the start of 2, we tested the limits with Crayola-sponsored art on every inch of every room. Now let’s paint perfectly arched rainbows and draw red and green apples (albeit with stems). Suddenly we start to color within the lines – but always go further outside the box. Riveting, sweet and as painfully difficult to understand as it may be, “2 to 3” is a great but too early masterpiece.
Life has never felt so fleeting and short as it has since I was a child. This is especially true as I cling to the remnants of my firstborn’s toddlerhood and prepare for her to continue developing into the unique, extraordinary human being that she is. Every day it seems to go faster and faster. I wish we could hold out the transition from 2 to 3 a little longer. . . or somehow stay here forever.
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