The Trouble With Three

"Your squeezing days are over" are the exact words The Bavarian said to me when he arrived home from collecting our new car on Friday. We've upgraded from a saloon to a seven seater, which meeans no more squeezing my behind into the small space on the back seat between two car seats. 

That's the trouble with three, you see. You need a bigger car. For the previous nine months, any family trips involved The Bavarian driving while one child sat in the front on a child's car seat and the other two and I sat in the back. The back seat of a Skoda is just not made for three car seats.

But it doesn't end there. 

The trouble with three is that you can't all stay in one hotel room anymore. They are made for four. Bloody Max Occupancy and his silly rules!

The trouble with three is that you still only have two hands.

The trouble with three is that babysitters are harder to find.

The trouble with three is that you suddenly have a middle child where the baby of the family used to be.

The trouble with three is that there is more to pick up, to put away, to wash, dry and iron.

But the real trouble with three is that you start to imagine four.