The other night as the little wanna-be-tyrant tried to endlessly stall, I hit my patience quota for the day, and bedtime quickly degraded into this conversation...
L: Your casserole tastes like poopy.
Me: That's not nice! You don't say that to a person.
L: Okay. But it really does taste like poopy.
Me, ashamedly, stooping to her level: You taste like poopy.
L: Gasp! That. Is not very nice at all!
Me: Exactly. Neither is someone telling a person that something they made tastes like poopy.
L: Yes, but I have feelings. There are no feelings attached to that casserole.
Me: Very true, but it's still not nice to tell someone their casserole
tastes like poopy. If you are going to insult my casserole you should at
least do so eloquently.
L: What does that mean?
Me: Um, use better adjectives.
L: Again. What does that mean?
Me: Use fancier words!!!
L: Fine! Your casserole was disgusting!!!!
OMGoodness!!! I was VERY thankful for chocolate after my sassy girly was
finally in bed!!! And for my ability to see the
humor in this convo after the fact.Oh my goodness!!