I just love the way my kids' minds work sometimes. When they're not plotting to destroy the room, that is.
This evening we sat down to a filling meal of PBJ sandwiches, all made in exactly the same way. My son's was cut up for easier picking, but that's the only difference.
You parents know what's coming. He sat there crying and blubbering for something, anything else. "Cewall?" No. "Cwacker?" No. "Juce?" No. Eat your sandwich.
"NO!NO!NO!NO!NO!NO!NO!NO!NO!NO!NO!NO!" Then he points to Daddy's sandwich.
"Want dat." It's the same sandwich, kid. "Want dat."
Fine. He takes a bite. "Nummy."
Good, now eat the SAME STUFF ON YOUR PLATE!
"NO!"
Swap plates with him, Daddy eats cut up little sandwich while two-year-old eats big-person sandwich.
Life is grand.
