Little Miss Thing, age 4: “Want to see my cool dance moves?”
Me: “Yes, of course!”
(much wild flailing)
Me: “That was great dancing.”
LMT: “I know. I dance a lot.”
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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.”
Probably stronger
Little Miss Thing, age 4, gave me a hard squeezy hug.
Me: “Wow, you are really strong.”
She grimaces and flexes her arms as hard as she can in a muscle man pose.
LMT: “I’m probably stronger than you, Daddy.”
Did I mention she’s not hurting for confidence?
Very Vocal Viking 