M stubs his toe hard, and understandably yowls. I comfort him and wipe away his lake of tears and finally ask whether a sweet might make waiting for the pain to pass more bearable. M tearfully allows that it might. Calm is restored and off he goes to play. Five minutes later he comes back in, wailing and holding his elbow.
"Awww, sweetheart, do you want me to kiss it better?"
"NO! Only sweets!"
Z and I are in bed, sleeping. We have had a hard night of taking turns to hold our teething, inconsolable baby and consequently feel like someone has worked us over with baseball bats, stuffed us in a sack and then rolled us down the side of the mountain.
An irritating noise keeps entering my world. It is my son, prodding and harassing us in the demanding manner that I can only guess he learned from the cats.
"What?" we hiss, through gritted teeth.
"I want to watch a cartoon."
"M, we are tired and we are sleepy. We have had a hard night. Go away and play with something."
"Play me a cartoon Mummy and Daddy, and then I won't bother and annoy you any longer." Z gets up to comply, and M with a devillish gleam in his eye exclaims: "Now, give me a spicy candy* so I won't yell and wake my sister!" **
He's so advanced! Next he'll tackle
Grand Theft Auto
The creation of his own smuggling ring
Other (specify in comments)
*Throat lozenges. M's Addiction Number 1 and the main currency of the household.
** Hahahaha, rookie error! I'll have to teach him about not overplaying one's hand.