The “three-nager” year was always supposed to be challenging. Most of my friends who have older children warned me that while everyone seems to talk about the “Terrible 2s,” people seem to talk less about the “thrilling 3s” or “three-nager” year, which is actually far more frustrating and triggering. Logically, it makes sense: while the 2s period is hard because toddlers realize they are individuals separate from others and their caregivers, they do not have the vocabulary to vocalize what they want. That’s what makes the 3s period even more infuriating: they have not only the knowledge that they are separate, but also now, they have the words to vocalize that they simply don’t want to do/say what you want them to do/say.

Because Kaia was jet lagged last week, the second half of the week, I took the stroller with me to take her home because I didn’t want to carry her all the way home myself, as I did the first few days of the week. I was going to take the stroller again on Thursday, but Chris told me to stop using it as a crutch for her: she has to realize that she is expected to walk, and that she has no choice but to comply. Well, this didn’t work out very well. As soon as she saw I had no stroller in the school corridor, she refused to walk even a single step. I dragged her arms into the elevator, then dragged her out of the school building. I proceeded to drag her across the street on Grand, right in front of Hey Tea where she decided to just sit on the ground, when a Chinese grandma walked up to us.

“Hey, pretty girl! Why aren’t you doing what your mama says?” the grandma first said in Toisan, then in Cantonese, then in Mandarin. “You have to be guai guai and listen to your mama. Can you go with her?” Then she turned to me. “What’s wrong?”

I told her that she refuses to walk. She shook her head. She proceeds to start lightly scolding Kaia in Toisan and Mandarin, telling her she has to do what her mama says and be guai guai, so she needed to get up now and walk. Finally, Kaia relented, got up, took my hand, and walked to the subway station with me.

We got on the train. She got her favorite window seat and then started yelling at me for two stops, saying she didn’t want me to sit next to her. I told her I had the right to sit next to her, and if she didn’t want me to sit next to her, someone else could. She didn’t like that, so she continued to yell. There was a power outage at our stop, so we ended up having to switch trains and get off at 57th and 7th Street, meaning we had to walk even further. I felt like I was in hell.

I had to carry her out of the subway, and then she laid on the ground, refusing to walk once again. I dragged her a block. Then she finally walked several blocks between dragging. I tried to reason with her. I felt many sympathetic eyes on me as I switched off dragging, carrying, and letting her sit and lie on the dirty ground. Sometimes, I got worried in the moment that I could potentially dislocate her arm while dragging. She cried the entire way from 57th and 7th Ave to home and did not stop once we got through the door.

It doesn’t matter how many toddler books you read (I’ve already read four), how many articles you read on early childhood development, how many “experts” you consult with, or how many parent friends you have who advise you. This period is just beyond difficult and infuriating. You want so much for your child to cooperate, but she refuses. And it’s even worse when you’re outside and it’s SO COLD. I don’t even really care about all the people passing by who are looking; I care more about the cold and wanting to go somewhere inside where it’s warm!

And I get it: she’s in this weird transition stage of no longer being a baby and recognizing that in herself, but also not necessarily wanting to be a “big girl.” She’s said it multiple times, and I try to tell her that being a big girl is fun, that we all do it, and she is not alone. She has us, she has her teachers, and she has her friends. And we all love her. I don’t think I’ve ever had my patience tested more than in this period. So I suppose this is also a learning stage for myself as her parent, as in, how not to lose my shit, to try not to yell, and to try my best to be as empathetic as possible to her… because transitions are really hard. They are hard for adults. And they are especially hard for littles like Kaia.