Family steels itself for another round of the 'Fabulous 3s'

There was a brief time during what we now laughingly refer to as his “Fabulous 3s” when my eldest grandson was nearly impossible to be around. Stubborn, bossy and compulsively ornery, the boy was the very definition of contrary. He grew out of it when it became clear there were much better ways to get attention than driving the adults in his life to the edge of insanity.

I’m happy to report James is currently operating as a delightful young fellow. Unfortunately, it now seems to be his brother Max’s turn to create chaos.

Every kid is different, of course, but one universal truth is that at one point or another, your children will try to drive you nuts. Two years his junior, Max couldn’t be more different from James in his method. James always operated in full view with one eye on the crowd, carefully gauging the response of the adults in the room while searching for that sweet spot between gaining everyone’s full attention and the irreversible tipping point of punishment.

Max, on the other hand, works his irksome magic largely under cover, content to let the adults find out about it later. Gaining immediate attention is not his goal. It’s as if “contrary” is just his most contented way of being. This is how toads spontaneously appear in a sink full of dirty dishes, and jars of bugs end up in the laundry.

Somewhat to his credit, it’s not that the boy is trying to be stealthy. Max just becomes so intensely focused on his missions of madness that we often mistake his quiet for harmless play. We are rapidly learning to fear silence when Max is about.

The other day Charlotte spotted her youngest son standing in the kitchen wearing his big, black fireman boots — a key wardrobe cue that tells us he means business. With his back to her, he quietly toiled over his small, plastic dump truck.

“Whatcha doing, Maxie?” she asked as she approached.

“I’m feeding my worms,” he said casually. It was then she saw the large bag of shelled pistachio nuts he was actively pouring into the bed of the truck.

“Oh, Max, worms don’t eat pistachios,” she said calmly as she reached for the bag. “Let’s put the nuts back and … ”

“Yes, they DO eat ‘stachios!” he shouted, snatching the bag away. “See?”

In the bed of the truck, wriggling amongst an inch or two of salted nuts, were a half dozen dirt-and-slime-covered earthworms! His mother let out a yelp, which might well still be echoing about their walls.

“Maxwell Joseph, you get those worms out of here right this instant!” she scolded. “Take them outside and back to their families!”

The boy rose reluctantly and began an awkward shuffle toward the back door with the truck in his arms.

“Worms don’t HAVE families,” he shouted, pistachios falling to the floor with each step.

Then he paused for a moment in the doorway to dramatically look over his shoulder at his scowling mother, “But they DO eat ‘stachios!”

Here’s to the “Fabulous 3s.” May they be measured in weeks rather than months!

Kristin and John Lorson would love to hear from you. Write Drawing Laughter, P.O. Box 170, Fredericksburg, OH 44627, or email John at jlorson@alonovus.com.