Three year olds

I always love my sons.  Always.  But there are times when I can't say I always "like" them.  My beautiful Mason, the loving, considerate, wonderful child of mine that I adore, was always quick to say "Please" and "Thank You".  No prompting, for the most part.  He just always wanted to please.  And then he turned three. 

Right after his third birthday, we had errands to run.  Pay bills, go to the bank, etc.  We went to the bank, and it's a small town, so they knew us well.  They greeted us as usual, and as we were leaving, they asked if Mason could have a sucker.  I said "Sure", and when they handed it to him, I told him to say "Thank You".  He refused.  Flat out refused.  So I told him to give it back.  He didn't want to.  So, I took it away from him and gave it back to them myself.  Wow.  He cried, no, screamed, and screamed, and screamed.  I just held him in my arms and walked out.  I get to the car (he's still screaming, mind you) and try to get him into his car seat.  Oh, the dreaded rigid bodied three year old tantrum.  Trying to get him into his seat was a true feat of wrestling, I tell ya.

So, still screaming, we head to Dollar General.  I get him out of the car seat (still screaming) and head into the store.  Again, small town, they ask me what's wrong with Mason.  I tell them the story of the episode at the bank.  She says that she has a Tootsie Roll in her pocket, if he can have that.  I said "Sure" again, as long as he said "Thank You".  Lo and behold, he refused.  Still.  So, again, I gave it back.  While he screamed.  He cried until we got back home, where he was exhausted from his ordeal of his "mean mom".  But guess what?  He says "Please" and "Thank You" every time.  Every. Time.