Oh… oh, you want your socks on TOP of your shoes. Okay, that makes sense. You’re the boss
I know, it’s six thirty. It’s morning.
I’m coming! Yes, yes, here’s your bottle. And your blanket. And your banana. And your cereal: Chex, with Life on top. And then more Chex on top. Sure, I’ll add more milk. And a little more. Okay, I’ll make you oatmeal, too.
Don’t worry. I’m just giving you the spoon. I wouldn’t dare feed you.
Throwing all your food down? I got the memo. You’re ready to come out. Let’s get dressed.
Oh no, sir. Don’t run away. We’re getting dressed. Just lie down for a second, stop rolling away while I try to close this diaper—
Ah, dear, give me a moment to decipher “u tot mi soo!” Is it milk that you want? No, you got that refusal across very effectively by throwing your bottle at me. A pot to chew? A trip to the zoo? No need for tears, I get the message.
Oh… oh, you want your socks on TOP of your shoes. Okay, that makes sense. You’re the boss.
