Clowns to the left of me! Jokers to the right!

Stuck in the middle with you.

Our little, middle guy is having some tough days lately. There's the daily battle to get him dressed as he screeches and cries, "No, I wan wear jammies."

There's his new obsession with turning off the television whenever big brother Bub is watching something. Cue screeching, screaming, and cries of "Moo-oom, he _______!"

There's the running around in circles once we've gone upstairs to settle down for night-night.

There's his habit of "accidentally" knocking over, kicking, and tripping his little sister Sweet P.

There's the running far away from me at Target, Jo-Ann Fabric, and Jewel ... even when just as we've entered each store, he's looked up at me sweetly and promised, "I stay close, Mom. I stay close you."

There's the schtick where he folds his arms across his chest, sticks out his lower lip, and announces in manner of an obnoxious sitcom kid, "Not fair. It not fair." If I ask him to clarify what's not fair, he answers, "You!"

There are the screeching and screaming fits that come seemingly out of nowhere and are resistant to logic and even to kindness and patience.

He'll turn three next month. I'm in the camp of parents who think the threes are potentially more terrible than the twos so perhaps his tough days can be attributed, in part, to his age.

Circumstances are probably also a factor. It's been a long "sprinter" (term for winter-like spring conditions), and he's been cooped up too much. Plus, he's been cooped up in a house that's for sale and always needs to be "close" to show-ready. His mama is tired and short on patience these days.

And, of course, he's our little, middle guy. Our daily and weekly schedules are dictated by Bub's school schedule, Bub's t-ball practices and games, and Sweet P's naps. Our Little Bit goes with the flow pretty well ... until he doesn't. I don't want to pin everything on birth order, but I imagine he does feel stuck in the middle sometimes, wondering, What about me?

Earlier in the spring when Sweet P was learning to walk, my hubby would stand her up so she could practice walking between us. Little Bit, desperate for his own attention, would swoop in, block her, and say, "Look me. Look me. Look I walking!" So we would humor him and clap, "Yes, good, good for you. You ARE walking, just as you have been for almost two years now. Way to go!"

Our little, middle guy is our biggest cuddle bug. He will crawl up on my lap, give me a hug, and say, "I love you too, Mommy." It's the too that gets me every time. I hope it indicates that my "I love you" to him is always understand, but my heart breaks that he always seems to need just a little bit more reassurance.

Little Bit climbs into our bed at some point every night. Sometimes hubby hauls him back to his own bed, but a lot of nights we leave him. In the morning, he wakes up between me and his daddy. Sometimes we will both snuggle him and kiss his cheeks at the same time. His eyes light up so big and with such joy that it's worth the discomfort of having been kicked by him for the last hour of fitful sleep.

He is a lovable little guy. With his angelic face and his big, blue eyes, I don't know if there is a boy who looks any sweeter when freshly-scrubbed and in his jammies.

And he's funny too. His passion for Star Wars and lightsabers is still fiery. He's invented a new game called Hide-n-Seek Lightsabers. The hider and the seeker are both armed with lightsabers. As the seeker seeks, he has to say, "I have a bad feeling about this." Cracks me up every time to hear Little Bit say that. When seeker finds hider, a battle ensues. Sometimes, two lightsabers cannot be located and Little Bit is quick to improvise, "It okay. I use the Force."

He likes to dance and shakes his little hips.

He's learned a couple of prayers and songs at school and his attempts to share them at home are stinking adorable.

He's taken a fancy to the younger sister of one of Bub's friends and calls her his girlfriend. "My girlfriend be there? My girlfriend be at t-ball?"

He used the potty exactly enough times to earn the red lightsaber I promised him as an incentive and then promptly stopped.

He eats his own dinner every evening and then eats a second meal with me and Daddy a couple of hours later. He's so proud whenever he tries a new food, "I like it, Mom. I like it!"

He asks me to take his picture all the time. I'm happy to oblige. One day my little, middle guy will be dressing himself, hearing "no" without throwing himself on the floor, staying at home all by himself while I shop at Target alone, and sleeping in his own bed past nine or even ten o' clock in the morning. I'll look at those pictures and only have slightly blurry memories of the screeching and the crying and the battling and the mess-making.

I don't know if birth order is a crock or not. I'm the oldest in my family and don't know firsthand what it feels like to be "stuck in the middle." I'm not doubting the pain of the experience, just wishing I knew better how to make his tough days less so. I guess just summon all the patience and energy I have and keep telling him and showing him how much he is loved.

I love you too, Little Bit. So, so, much that it's not fair. You're stuck in the middle and you're stuck with me and Daddy. So there.

Any middle children out there? Any wisdom to add? Grievances to air?