In a minute/In just a sec/Later.
It’s not inappropriate.
It’s so unfair.
You don’t understand.
All my friends can read/see/say/hear it.
You make me go to bed so (yawn) early.
I heard you, I just didn’t know you wanted an answer.
I want a playdate.
This show will be over in just a few minutes.
I know I picked it out (and so you took the tags off and washed it), but I’ve decided I don’t like it anymore.
And then, almost every night, I get a sleepy, "You’re the best mommy ever."
And that, my friends, is how I get through trying parenting days. Like today.
(Note to Caroline, when you find this blog and need therapy: Yes. You say all these things, almost every day. Yes, they push every button I have. Yes, I probably said them to my mother, so I will try not to assume you're going to end up a crazy lonely old lady with a lot of cats. Rather, I think you'll end up just like me -- with a payback kid you love with all your heart.)