age of spite

In the US, we talk about the "terrible twos" but in my native Norway we talk about "the age of spite," and it begins at three (trassalderen). We are so dealing with that right now. Which is why I broke into tears reading the book that arrived as our monthly free gift from Dolly Parton's Imagination Library this week: Old Bear and His Cub.

Old Bear loved his Little Cub with all his heart.
Little Cub loved Old Bear with all his heart.
Every morning they ate breakfast together.
"Eat all your porridge, Little Cub," said Old Bear.
"No, I won't," said Little Cub.
"Yes, you will," said Old Bear.
"No, I won't," said Little Cub.

Old Bear stared hard at Little Cub.
Little Cub ate his porridge.
All of it.

The book takes us along their day through more exchanges of obstinent spitefulness and persistent determinedness.

I giggled my way through the pages until I got to the end.

As it turns out, it's the Old Bear who catches a cold from not wearing a scarf during their day out in the snow. After Little Cub has managed to convince Old Bear to crawl into bed, Little Cub brings him tea and reads to Old Bear "all through the night:"

Little Cub yawned.
He crawled into bed beside Old Bear.

Old Bear put his arm around Little Cub.
Little Cub snuggled close.
"I do feel better, Little Cub," said Old Bear.
"So do I," whispered Little Cub.
Little Cub fell fast asleep.
"Good night, Little Cub," said Old Bear.

Old Bear kissed Little Cub on the top of his head.
And he held his little cub all through the night.

Postlude: As to the photo, unrelenting demands for band-aids are also part of the age of spite. As is a new level of potty mouth. But more on that later.