Zero to Sixty in 2.4 seconds. And vice versa.

Number 6 is three years old.

He has a bit of a temper.

He’s pretty good at throwing a full on, level 10 tantrum when things don’t go his way.

Somebody takes his bouncy ball?

Code red meltdown

He can’t find his blankie?

Code red meltdown.

Can’t get his shirt on by himself?

Code red meltdown.

The other day he was coming down the stairs, screaming bloody murder.

I was cleaning up in the kitchen.

“Do you need some help?” I asked him.

“NO!” he screamed.

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH. AAAAAAAAH! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!

He had one arm in his shirt, and he could not get the other arm in.

He was fighting with that shirt, but he was bound and determined to get his other arm in on his own.

I let him continue the struggle.

I’m kind of immune to his fits at this point anyway.

My husband came in from the other room.

“Do you need some help?” he asked.

“NO!!!” yelled Number 6.

He went back to crying and struggling.

“Well, apparently you do,” my husband said to him.

I guess that really pissed Number 6 off.

He went into Hulk mode and got his arm into that sleeve.

He looked right at my husband.

“APPAYWENTLY I DON’T!!!” Number 6 yelled.

And with that, the crying stopped, and he proudly and quietly walked past my husband and into the playroom.

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