Me At Three

When I was three and just a little child my thoughts never tended toward being mild. Too much TV for me in those days as Miss Frances and Romper Room left me ablaze. She'd tell us "DO BEES" to have fun that day I followed her advice in my own sweet way. I had more than a little mischief in me which I flaunted everywhere and for all to see. Like drinking my milk without using a straw so all could see the white mustache above my little maw. I'd take my cars and run them into each other head on like the demolition derby that had just been on. I would open the door to the parakeet's cage and let it fly free laughing as my mother chased it, never thinking it was me. My closest cousin grew up downstairs he and I put on some elegant airs. We would run through the house with abandon you see knowing how much fun it gave to him and me. Laughter and giggles are what to expect from a three year old unless they're some prodigy like Mozart who doesn't fit the mold. All they know is what they want, have to have, or they'll throw a fit and they work that game as long as their parent's let them get away with it. Three year olds are charming, lovable, fun, and happy too but just one thing is in their heads..."What can I get you to do"?