Little Miss Thing, age 7: “Mom told me to help you with dinner.”

Me: “Uh… I’m just heating up chili. Maybe you can make peanut butter sandwiches for everyone?”

LMT: “I’ve made a lot of them lately. I’m pretty good at it.”

Me: “I’m sure you are.”

LMT: (making sandwiches, quietly humming)

LMT: “Do I have to eat those carrots? We had them for lunch.”

Me: “You had carrots at lunch? Really?”

LMT: “Yes.”

Me: (glaring)

LMT: “We did!”

Me: (glaring intensifies)

LMT: “At lunch… about a month ago.”

Me: “That’s more like it. Tell you what, I sliced up a red bell pepper for Mom. You can eat that or carrots.”

LMT: “Ewwwww… I’ll take carrots. Definitely carrots.”

LMT: (quietly humming)

LMT: “Should I put butter on all of them?”

Me: “On the carrots?”

LMT: “No, the bread.”

Me: “Butter? Don’t you mean peanut butter?”

LMT: “I just call it butter now. I don’t know why.”

Me: “OK, sure. Whatever you call it, it goes on all the sandwiches. That’s why we call them peanut butter sandwiches.”

LMT: “Right, butter sandwiches.”

Me: …

Me: “Call it whatever you want. Just do it.”

LMT: (quietly humming)

LMT: “Do I have to eat chili?”

Me: “Yes.”

LMT: “Why? It’s a free country.”

Me: “Not when you’re a kid, it’s not.”

LMT: “That’s not fair.”

Me: “It really isn’t. Wait… Where’s the red pepper I just sliced?”

LMT: “I ate it.”

Me: “All of it?”

LMT: “Yeah. It’s my favorite.”

Me: …

LMT: (quietly humming)