Four.

Last night as the usual evening chaos descended and we were becoming more and more frustrated and exasperated by our four year old, I took a minute to escape. I shut the door behind me and sat down. I was feeling angry, helpless and tired. I wanted to cry. As I listened to my four year old carry on, I realised my four week old was sleeping soundly in the middle of it all and I had a moment of clarity and calm. I was suddenly thankful that God only gives us what we can handle.
Forget the terrible twos, four is hideous. We have coined it the f*@!ing fours. In a way I'm comforted by the fact I'm not alone and my child is not unique. The other four year old boys I know seem to be the same and apparently testosterone is to blame. Who knew that at four boys had a surge of testosterone? Marry that with the arrival of a new sibling and no wonder our house is all kinds of crazy. I hope my sweet, thoughtful boy will come back to me soon, sans attitude.