My 3-Year-Old Is A 3-Year-Old - Louis C.K.

The three-year-old Is a different story.

The three-year-old, Here’s her deal.

She’s a three-year-old.

That’s really it.

She’s three years old.

The other day I got in a fight with her.

Whose fault is that?

I’m 41, And she’s 3 It’s always your fault With a three-year-old.

Always.

Because they are just

what they are.

They can’t help it.

Just tape the windows.

It’s a fucking hurricane.

Just wait.

Anytime you’re like this with a three-year-old- “Don’t you under-” You’re an idiot.

That’s you

being an idiot.

“Don’t you understand?”

“No, I don’t, dad.

I haven’t developed enough.

You just

have to wait.”

But it was partly her fault, ‘Cause she wore me down.

Let me tell you What

happened.

It was this horrible, Horrible day.

It started the night before, ‘Cause she woke me up

all night.

Just woke me up Every fucking- Just ten minutes.

Just woke me up- Just- “Dad.

” With

nothing.

That’s the worst part.

“Daddy!”

“Wha-what?

What is it?”

“Um… ” “Oh, fuck you.

You got

nothing.

You bullshitter, you.

” So now it’s the next morning, I’m making breakfast, And I’m gone.

I’m insane.

I drank too much coffee to overcompensate, And I’m like- I keep having these

moments where it’s like- and there’s nothing there.

Just nothing.

“Uh, okay.

Jesus.

” I’m making

french toast.

She’s over there sitting in her little chair, just fucking anger.

Just pure-she’s A little

ball of anger.

She’s like, “I want french toast!”

I’m like, “yeah, that’s what I’m making, honey.

I’m

making french toast.

” I bring it over.

“Here.”

“Give me syrup!”

“Yes.

of course.

I’ll give you syrup.

I always do.

I love you very much.”

“Cut it for me!”

“I’m happy to cut it for you.

“You’re not

asking nicely, But it’s okay.

“I’ll cut it for you, Baby.

I love you very much.”

Then she’s looking at

her plate, and she’s literally going- ‘Cause she needs to be- Want something.

You know, she

didn’t- There’s nothing logical For her to want, So her brain has to go somewhere crazy.

So she’s

looking at her plate.

She goes, “I don’t know Which piece to eat!”

And I’m still not engaging.

I’m

like, “Oh, I know, honey.

“That’s hard.

That’s really hard.

“I’ll just make a list of pros and cons for

every piece, And I’ll help you with it later.

” And I look at her, And she’s walking towards me now

With the plate just vertical, With syrup fucking Going on the floor.

She’s like, “Help me!

You’re

not helping!”

And I’m standing there, Like, looking at her, And I love her, And I’m proud of her in

a way, ‘Cause I know she’ll never Want for anything.

She’ll beat the shit Out of people.

She’s…

She’ll kill people for meat After the apocalypse.

She’ll be one of those.

And then later I’m trying

To get them dressed for school, And now the clock’s ticking, And I’m like, “uh… ” And I’m trying

to put A sweater on her, And it’s impossible.

The sweater has buttons That just don’t exist.

And

I’m fucking- My fat fingers, And they’re full of sweat.

And I have just tears Going down my

cheeks.

Crazy tears.

I’m not crying.

I’m, like, Smiling with tears.

Copious- “I can’t- I can’t put on

the sweater.

“I can’t put on the sweater.

I can’t.

I really can’t do it.

” And she’s going like this.

So I

give her a fig newton Just to immobilize her, Just to stop it.

‘Cause she loves fig newtons.

I go,

“here, honey.

Have a fig newton.

” She goes, “they’re not Called fig newtons.

They’re called pig

newtons.

” And I go, “No, they’re not.

They’re called fig newtons.

” And right away in my head

I’m like, “what are you doing?

“Why?

What is to be gained?

What do you care?”

Just-“yeah, pig

newtons.

Fine.

Go ahead.

“Good luck to you.

Go through life.

“See what kind of job You can hold

down “With shit like that Clanging around in your head.

I don’t care.

I’ll be dead.”

But for some

reason I engaged.

“No, honey, They’re called fig newtons.”

She goes, “No.

You don’t know.

You

don’t know.

They’re called pig newtons.”

And I just-I feel this rage building inside.

Just… Because

it’s not That she’s wrong.

She’s three.

She’s entitled to be wrong.

But it’s the fucking arrogance of

this kid.

No humility.

No decent sense of self-doubt.

She’s not going like, “dad, I think those are

pig newtons.

Are you sure That you have it right?”

She’s not saying that.

She’s not going, like,

“Dad, I’m pretty sure Those are pig newtons,” Which would be a little Cunty, but acceptable.

I

could deal with that.

She’s giving me nothing.

“No, you don’t know.

Those are pig-” I’m like,

“Really?

I don’t know?

“I don’t know?

“Dude, I’m not even using My memory right now, okay?

“I’m reading the fucking box “That the shit came out of!

“It says it!

Where are you getting your

information?”

“How do you fuck with me on this?

“You’re 3 and I’m 41!

“What are the odds that

you’re right and I’m wrong?

“What are the sheer odds of that?

“And take a bite of the cookie.

“Does it taste like a pork cookie, motherfucker?

“I don’t think so.

Why would they call it a pig

newton?”

“What’s- Oh, it tastes like figs.

Fucking interesting, That, isn’t it?”

I didn’t say a word of

that.

Obviously.

But anyway, later… Got the kids dressed.

It’s winter.

We all have the layers on, And it’s time to go

to school.

And I’ve got ten minutes To get to a school That’s ten minutes away, Which is a

horrible feeling.

I put my hand On the door to leave, And all of a sudden I go, “I got to take a shit.

“Take the coats off, kids.

“We’re gonna be late.

“You’re gonna be 40 minutes late.

I don’t give a

shit.”

I am not walking to school like this.

I can’t use the bathroom at the school, ‘Cause child molesters ruined that for everybody.

Just-we’re- I’m shitting here.

So I’m sitting on the toilet.

I’m

shitting.

With the door open, By the way.

That’s my life.

Two kids by myself.

I can’t shit with the

door closed.

Unless I gather them into the bathroom To watch daddy take a dump.

Which I’ve

done With the little one.

“Honey, uh, I got to poop And you’re too crazy.

Just come with me.

You

got to come with me.

” So I’m sitting there, And I’m shitting, And I’m trying to see them In the

other room.

“Honey, Stay between the tables.

I can’t see you,” I said.

The little one Walks into

view naked.

It’s all gone.

All gone.

Walks up, looks at me.

And then she- I don’t know why, But

she shows me her ass.

It’s something She always does when she’s- She just goes- “Look at it!

Daddy, You’re not looking!”

So I’m sitting there shitting, Looking at her ass.

And I saw something

That I’d never seen before.

And I’m gonna describe it to you The way that I saw it, Because it

just-I didn’t know What I was looking at.

I’m looking at her little, White ass.

She’s white.

Little,

perfect, Little, white ass.

And right in the center of it, This little black dot Just-boop!

Appeared

like magic.

That’s what it Looked like to me, Because I’ve never Seen shit Actually coming out of

an ass before.

I never saw that.

I never saw the shit- Like, the crowning, The shit coming out.

And

if you ever do see that, It’s fucking bananas, man.

It’s weird.

And upsetting.

I yelled.

I went,

“aah!”

And a second later, just- She just drops This massive- I felt the impact tremor Under my

feet.

This huge pile of shit.

Just a pile.

Like several people’s Pile of shit.

Like a port-a-potty on The

last day of the festival.

Just a huge, Huge pile of shit.

How?

She’s three.

This kid shits like a bear.

I

don’t understand it.

Seriously.

If you were in the woods And you saw a shit like that, You’d be

like, “let’s get The fuck out of here!

Run!”

Huge pile of shit.

As big as her whole body.

Easily.

I

thought she would just crumple Like a balloon on top of it.

“Huh.

Weird.

” She’s standing there

just Straddling this huge shit, Presenting it, like… She slips, falls Right into her own shit.

Yes, fell- I

was there.

Fell right in the middle of her own heap of shit.

Her head hit the floor.

You know that

sound of your Kid’s head hitting the floor?

“Ooh.

Oh, God.

“Uh, she’s done.

“That’s it for her.

She’s finished.

“She’s gonna be running To the mailbox once a day.

That’s about it for her.

” Now

she’s laying In her shit, Screaming and crying And making an angel.

I run over.

I’m still shitting,

Holding a Shit-covered child.

We’re the shit family.

That’s what we are.

The seven-year-old’s

Standing there, “I got to get The fuck out of here.

This is horrible.

“ That’s my life right now, man.

That’s-like, where in there do I fit, like, getting pussy?

Like, there’s no place for that.

I can’t even

think about it.