Terrible Threes

I don't know why they call it the terrible twos.  Owen had a great first and second year.  This year, his third year, is the trying one.  He is great for the most part but sometimes he pulls some doozies.  Yesterday he unraveled a roll of toilet paper and threw all of it into the toilet.  Luckily I got there before he flushed it.  (This also explained why the toilet was clogged last week).  If he's unsupervised, and quiet, it's a good bet he's up to no good.  Today I was changing Liam, and Owen was suspiciously quiet.  I found him "brushing his teeth" with about a pound of Winnie-the-Pooh toothpaste and Daddy's toothbrush.  I laugh after the fact, but it doesn't seem so funny at the time.  Like when I he showed me how he packed his suitcase:  he took ALL of his clothes out of his dresser and stuffed it into his Thomas the Tank Engine suitcase.  Even that wasn't so bad the first time; it was the third and fourth time he did it that started taxing my patience.  Almost every night Loren and I laugh about the crazy things Owen has done or said that day.  I wish we had cameras going all the time so we could save these years.  They are sometimes manic, most often sweet, and sadly, quickly forgotten.  I think I will remember these times forever, but that's not how it works.