Don’t make me count to three! No, really, don’t make me…

While I try to be open minded when raising our three young boys and not fall back on out dated parenting tricks just because my parents used it, I still find myself suddenly saying things to the kids that I have no idea where they came from (for intense, after telling Big Bits to go to his bed for being bad, he refused and so I told him “Fine, you go to double bed!” He did as I said and while he napped, I sat downstairs and wondered what the hell “double bed” was supposed to mean). Like counting to three when they are doing something they shouldn’t be. Why do I do that? Why does it effect them so?

It is amazing to see the boys when my hand goes up and I start counting off the numbers. The crying begins and what sounds like: “Holy God, the world is coming to an end, Dad is counting! Stop whatever you’re doing and run to the hills cause Dad is already at two! Kiss your ideas of having a future goodbye because you know what happens if he gets to three…!” starts to spill out of their mouths. At least I think that’s what they’re saying, it mostly sounds like screaming, crying and inarticulate babble to me but they might be using that frequency that only kids can hear (I like to think of the boys as more eloquent than that and if this lets me continue that belief, so be it). But I don’t have to get very far for the screaming to start and the begging to stop to commence; it’s all a bit over the top.

Especially Big Bits; he’s over acting is extreme. He’ll either be the William Shatner of his generation or just the worse Emo Kid off all time (and don’t tell me there won’t be Emo Kids in a few years. The Sixties had Doors fans, the Eighties had the Cure, the Nineties had Nine Inch Nails and girls who took Pearl Jam songs way too seriously; they aren’t always called Emo Kids but there’s always depressed kids obsessed with their own sadness). The falling on the floor, the tears…it is just a bit too much sometimes. “Dude, all I said was it’s Little Bits’ turn to pick a game to play. This isn’t ‘Sophie’s Choice’, now shut it.” I used to chant “Fake cry! Fake cry!” when he started a fit but this made it worse and I learned to shut up.

Speaking of Little Bits…man, he’s good. He might be the star of the “Sophie’s Choice” remake that I’m sure someone is planning right now. His tears fall as big summer rain drops; the kind that sound like hail when they hit your windshield (the rain, not his tears). He can turn on the water works instantly and, instantly, you want them to stop. Which, of course, he does since it’s all an act. Not that you can call him on it, at least in public. You want to look like a bad parent? Tell a child who’s heart is obviously breaking right there in the toy aisle to “Shut it” and you will get looks from other parents that could melt steel.

And Tiny Bits? He only fake cries when he wants something. He hasn’t really grasped that sometimes I want him to stop doing whatever it is he’s doing. He’ll just keep on breaking stuff until I take it from him. He doesn’t seem to mind, there are other things to break in easy reach. He’s only limited by his vast imagination.

But all this doesn’t answer the main question: Why does counting to three garner such crazy reactions from my two eldest? My wife and I have never sat them down and told them what would happen when we reach “3.” I’ve never gotten to “3” and immediately broken out the Taser. In fact, I’ve never gotten to “3”, although I’ve had some very long “1s” and “2s.” By the time I get to “2 and a half,” I usually have to stop and hold one of them to calm them down. They still stop what they were doing wrong, so I guess it works but…WTF?

I often wonder what would happen if I did get to the magical “3”. I don’t really know what I would do. I’ve even used that as a threat: “Go ahead and keep this up. Do you want to see what happens when I get to ‘3’? I’m not really sure what will happen but do you want to find out together?” They’ve never taken me up on the offer. Maybe one day…but I hope not, I don’t want to have my bluff called this early. I was hoping to make it at least to their teenage years before I lose total control.