Yesterday, I found my sugar canister - lid off - on a shelf beside Mary's bed. For who knows how long she had been spooning it rather messily into her teeny open mouth, inviting ants from all over our neighborhood to come and join her. Mary loves sweets. Loves, loves, loves, loves, loves them. Every single morning when I say, "Hi there, honey, are you ready for some breakfast?" She says, "Yes, mama. I'll have a cookie please." Then I say no and she wails and beats at her breast with dramatics more appropriate for say, a favorite doll being run over by a cement truck or a security blanket lost at sea. No matter how many times we go through this exact same exchange, my refusal to replace Cheerios with Oreos never loses an ounce of its sting. Wouldn't it be dreamy if logic held some sway with little children?
2 days ago