(And did you know, in parenting pre-Kers, the "terrible three-and-a-three-quarters" is the new "terrible twos" for the dawning milennium? Terrible, terrible. Terrible 3, terrible 2, terrible Roo!)
I have to admit though, some of Roo's dinosaur mimicry (complete with roaring and stomping of giant dinofeet in the predawn hours) can be endearing. Especially when he fancies himself a papa dino taking his baby Rex for a walk. No seriously. I have to walk down the street with my 3 year-old weirdo while he drags his 3 foot rubber dino on a retractable dog leash behind him (or, if he's feeling particularly loving toward Rex, carries him on his shoulders a la Hubby).
I think Roo's sidewalk escapades may have been responsible for at least one heavily pregnant neighbor going into labor, but that is unconfirmed. The stuff of urban legend. The future Eastside tales of the craxy lady of Edgerton Street and her buggy little Dinosaur Boy.