Deprived

Waitress hands the kids each a bottle of root beer. They both immediately slug about half.

Me: “OK, OK, that’s enough for a bit. Let’s hold off until we’ve had some solid food.”

(One minute later)

Little Mist Thing, age 4: “Can I have root beer now?”

Me: “Not yet. Eat real food.”

LMT: “Now?”

Me: “That was one second. Not yet. Eat real food.”

LMT: “Now?”

Me: “Not yet. Eat real food.”

LMT: “I NEVER GET ROOT BEER ANYMORE.”

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