I'm pretty sure that raising a preschooler is the hardest job ever--aside from raising a teenager. Especially when your three-year-old is wicked smart and extremely precocious. He exhausts me. He gets into everything and does it very quietly when he knows he's doing something he's not supposed to be doing.
Tonight, instead of sleeping, I found him up in his room changing into new pajamas. He had dumped an entire canister of fish food into his fish tank and had peed on the floor. WTF? We had forgotten to turn the bathroom light on so he had unzipped his feetie pajamas, pulled down his "nighttime underwear" pull-up, and had tried to go in a bucket but missed entirely and peed all over the floor. I cleaned the pee and then I made the mistake of telling him that his fish could die with that much food in his tank and then he worried for a while out loud as I changed the water.
He was still awake at 9:30PM so I told him that I would sleep with him tonight and he snuggled up in my arms. He turned to me with his tiny hands on my cheeks and gave me a big kiss on the lips, saying, "Mama, I really like you so much." and looking very serious about it all. And then he said, "Guess who loves you? Dylan. And guess who loves you. Daddy. And guess who else loves you. The trucks love you."
And he was just so damn sweet as he curled up in my arms that I nearly didn't want to sneak out after he fell asleep.
Because they are only this little for so long.