I felt I needed to do one more of these since Part II focused almost entirely on “gross.” And my children are far too annoying not to give them equal time in that arena.

So let’s just jump right in shall we?

Oliver? Shreds paper. I mean, like all the time. And not only is this strange, but it’s also messy. As if my house isn’t a disaster as it is…

It all started with him realizing that he could use tissue paper to make snow for one of his little Thomas Train scenes. Then he found he could also use it to simulate soap suds for “the wash down.” And THEN he cut out the middle man altogether and started shredding it just for the sake of creating little piles.

The saving grace is that he only does this with tissue-like paper. Paper towels are about as thick as he’s willing to go. So at least 50% of the paper we own is safe from his machinations.

Now, I know that this is all tied in with his sensory issues and it’s somehow soothing for him, but having to keep anything tissue-related out of reach is ANNOYING. Seriously – it’s like living with a gerbil.

Also? He will trail me around the house asking me for the same thing over-and-over-and-over-and-over… Like:

Oliver: Mommy – I want some milk please.

Me: Okay – just a minute honey.

Oliver: Mommy – I want some milk.

Me: Okay – just a minute.

Oliver: I want some milk.

Me: Just a minute.

Oliver: I want some milk.

Oliver: I want some milk.

Oliver: I want some milk. I want some milk. I want somemilk. I wantsomemilk. Iwantsomemilk. IwantsomemilkIwantsomemilkIwantsomemilkIwantsomemilk.

Oh my god (insert Chandler Bing’s signature tone here) someone make it stop.

This one probably doesn’t have anything to do with his Spectrum issues. Instead, I think it’s a direct result of my inability to maintain focus for more than 30 seconds. You see, it’s a very common occurrence for one of my children to ask me for something, and then for me to say “you bet!” and walk purposefully out of the room…only to get sidetracked by something else and never be heard from again. So this is probably his way of making sure I follow through. Proving that I have only myself to blame.

Still very annoying though.

Then there are the twins.

For a long time I found it seizure inducing when they would scream the same thing in stereo. But now I get the pleasure of listening to them argue. And make simultaneous yet opposing demands.

If one of them wants the lights on, the other wants them off. If one of them wants butter on their rice, the other wants it plain (and god help the woman who doesn’t make it crystal clear that their servings were prepared separately as ordered). If one of them wants to watch The Wonder Pets on TV, the other one wants to watch Diego.

Don’t get me wrong, they play wonderfully together and they are the best of friends. But they’re learning how to assert themselves just like any other three year olds. So it’s inevitable that they’d seek out opportunities to clash.

The best is when they do this in the car. Because you know, I can’t escape. It usually has to do with keeping the windows up or down. And compromising with one up/one down doesn’t work since from what I understand, wind can reach you from either side.

So I hear “I want-a window DOWN!” and I put the windows down. Then I hear “NO! I want-a window UP!” and I put them back up. Then “NO! Down!” – and they go down. Then “[howl] NOOOOO! UP!” – and they go up. And this continues until I decide that it’s kind of funny to mess with them and start rolling the windows up and down as fast as I can.

This would be when they join forces and either hate me or think I’m the funniest mom ever. On a good day it’s the latter.

Another precious little habit of theirs is to turn a short bedtime story into an hour-long activity by demanding to take turns reciting their version of the text on EVERY PAGE. And if I try to turn the page without each of them having their full moment in the spotlight, they make “the noise.”

I put “the noise” in quotes, because that’s what I’ve starting to call it, saying “don’t you MAKE that noise or I will put this book away.” A tactic that is only partly effective since they generally switch to writhing around on the floor howling “NO!” in an attempt to squeeze my brain until it literally explodes.

It’s very hard to capture “the noise” in writing, but I guess you could call it whining. Phonetically, it would be something like “Eh! Eh! Eh!” Which doesn’t sound that bad as I reread it…but believe me after five storybook pages of that, you will start scanning the room for sharp objects to drive into your eardrums.

And if they’re really on their game, they will battle each other for the last word. Each making “the noise” after the other takes their turn – making it impossible for me to turn the page until I finally lose it and say “that’s it! Lights out!” That’s usually when they drop to the ground and pull out another signature move that I like to call “sizzling bacon.” That one looks a lot like demonic possession (I mean – from what I’ve seen on TV), but the exorcism is far more simple. It just requires assurances that we WILL in fact continue the story if they just stopstopstopfortheloveofgodpleasestop.

So yeah – that’s kind of annoying.

This has gotten rather long, and any other parents reading this know that I could go on forever. So I’ll end with a new favorite.

Eleanor has decided that she is only a part time three year old. The rest of the time, she is thirteen. This manifests in her angsty practice of being frequently wounded by something innocuous that we do or say. She will immediately leave the room and then settle in a spot nearby where we are sure to hear her whimpering tears.

At first I thought this was hilarious. It brought back so many memories of sitting alone in my self inflicted misery, just waiting for someone to happen upon me and realize how wronged I have been by such a cruel world…

But then I remember that she’s only three, and isn’t slated to become an angsty teenager for another 10 years. So does that mean that we will get more of the same until 2019 when she officially takes office as the resident teenage girl? Or is she just starting to hone her skills ensuring her black belt in emotional blackmail by age nine?

I’m afraid to speculate. Hopefully, I’ll be too busy cleaning up shredded tissue paper to notice.