When our daughter was born, our friends who had jumped into parenthood before us would say to enjoy every moment. “It goes by so fast!” was the usual refrain.

Now, in that, was a subtle hint of foreshadowing that I had not caught… sure, the newborn stage goes by fast. As does the infant stage. The toddler stage seems to go by less quickly, mostly because mobility comes into the mix and ups the logistical planning and zoning challenges with two key factors:

First, they literally toddle – like drunk, little, pygmy-monkeys.
Second, everything suddenly becomes something that should be climbed and conquered. It’s like witnessing a preschool version of American Ninja Warrior and your drunk little monkey gnome is just going straight for Mount Midoriyama.

In fact, that waddling sprint of freedom should have been the sign that “it” that “goes by” and “fast” was among us.

Only, it wasn’t in reference to the time between a blissfully swaddled, gently cooing baby to a maniacal, laughing child, escaped from the bath, running wild and embracing her natural state like pint-sized streaker.

Nope, it was the blip of time when simple things like eating breakfast, getting dressed, brushing teeth, and pretty much the entire sum of the human experience pivoted from simply playful to intricate parleys and complex negotiations.

That was when we met “the client.”

Much like client requests, my wife and I are given tasks that seem confusing, often contradictory. And we’re trying to process these project requests accordingly… and within some semblance of sanity.

For instance, when a fresh-picked flower began to drop its petals, the client was quite upset. I explained that this was an expected outcome… the client tearfully demanded that it was a design flaw. I told her I’d get back to her.

Or when the client clarified that the syrup for her waffles be poured in a circle (not a rainbow?) and became panic-stricken when said circle failed to retain its shape, well, it was clearly an agency mistake. We simply lost sight of the brand. The strategy couldn’t hold up. Circles, not rainbows. Solution: serve French Toast.

Forget the “terrible twos”, “Threenagers” are the ones to watch out for – they’re smart, they’re wily. They’ve learned how to play the system. It’s kind of like in Terminator 2: Judgement Day, when the computers suddenly became aware and that was that.

And yet, there’s a weird, almost sadistic part of me that wants to see what happens. I think that’s the real kick in this whole experience… Besides, everybody knows the client is crazy.