Anger to Laughter

It's amazing that a 3 year old can make me angry one minute and have me laughing the next. Both happen, ironically, when he's overly tired. Today was a perfect example. This morning I was inputting info into the computer. P is obsessed with computers, remotes, electronics, etc lately. So I purposely told him not to touch the computer (I saw him eyeing it when I first stood up) while I ran up to get Easton from his bassinet. When I came back downstairs P had indeed touched the computer, messing up the page and making me have to redo it. I was livid because we were on a time crunch and more importantly because I had specifically told him not to do it. He had been in the middle of playing games on my Kindle, which I quickly grabbed out of his hands. His response was to pick up his toy sword, swing it at me and tell me he was going to cut me because I took him games away. Needless to say the sword went in the garbage and P threw a wing dinger of a temper tantrum. Fast forward to this evening. We were over the computer/sword fiasco and P had me laughing. Rob was holding Easton while I was preparing dinner. P was in the kitchen with me and asked if he could have Cheetos. I told him no because it was dinner time. A few minutes later I heard Rob ask what P had in his hands as he ran to his room. Lucky for us, P is still a very honest kid (99% of the time) so when I followed him into his room and asked what he had he was quick to show me the stash of Cheetos he had hidden behind his toy bins for later. I literally had to bite my cheek to keep from laughing because that's something I so did as a child. Although I don't think I was quite smart enough to start doing it at 3 years old. Later I was running on the treadmill and he was upstairs with me. He picked up his binoculars, pointed them at me and then yelled. He said, "Oh, I thought it was a monster but it was just you Mommy." Well played son, well played. To top off the night I was helping him get ready for bed. Rob and I were talking when P walked out of the bathroom, crying. I asked what had happened and he said he wasn't paying attention and had fallen in the toilet. I looked down to see his PJ bottoms wet and I couldn't help but to bust up laughing because, again, that's something I would've (ok maybe still would) done. It's nice to know that he may look like his daddy but he inherited my gracefulness. I know we are blessed with a good boy. A strong willed boy? Indeed, but a sweet, funny boy none the less.