I had to take the girls to run errands with me on Monday. Dragging two young children from store to store is pretty much a recipe for disaster under even the best circumstances, but it's a guaranteed nightmare if one of those children is 4 years old.

Which just so happens to be the age that my youngest turned on Friday (the 13th, no less).

We were in Michael's around 11 a.m. on Monday, my 4yo securely seated in a cart (because I know better than to let her out -- containment is key). She is whining away in her squeaky, high-pitched Minnie-Mouse voice because ... she's hungry, she wants some candy, she wants that plastic flower, she wants a purple foam crown, and ... well, suffice to say she whining about everything and anything.

I say to the cashier (well to her as much as the disapproving-looking older couple behind me) -- "Twos have nothing on the Fours." The cashier says "Really? I thought it was always 2-year-olds that were hard."

I said "No way. At 2, they are still cute. And you can still physically pick them up even when they're freaking out, and (as Lauren interrupts to tell me I'm a "mean mommy" and "Maybe you need a time-out, Mommy") they don't engage in snotty backtalk (which is a 4-year-old girls favorite way to test your limits).

I wanted to stop at another store along the way home, but I knew it there was nothing I needed that badly.

Except a little peace and quiet, of course.