>The art of negotiation.

>

Via the Mark Twain bookstore.
B has brushed his teeth, kissed his daddy, and been tucked into bed.  I am just starting to relax when he pages me:
Moooommmmmeeeeeee!!!!!  Moooommmmmeeeeeee!!!!!  Moooommmmmeeeeeee!!!!!
It’s like an air raid siren.
I reluctantly go into his room and ask, “Why are you yelling at me?”
B, lying indolently on his bed with his hands folded behind his head and his left foot resting on his cocked-up right knee (a-la Tom Sawyer), says, “Tuck me in Mommy.”
I look at him in disbelief, arms akimbo, “I’m sorry, what?  Are you kidding me?  You can’t tuck yourself in?”
He looks me straight in the eye and says, gravely, “But I just lyin’ here, Mommy!”
Oh, well then.  Of course.

>Spring means new Crocs

>

B picked out his new crocs today – green! He’s been off pink lately, and I was afraid someone had told him that pink is “for girls” (which is a sure way to enrage my liberal soul, plus until about the turn of the century pink was considered a boy’s color, because it’s derived from red). I had a long talk with him about why he didn’t want any more pink crocs:

Me: But don’t you like pink?

B: Yeah, but I just like green. And red.

Me: But you can wear any color you want, you know. Daddy wears pink all the time!

B: I know. I like pink, but green is my favorite color!

Me: Oh, so you want green ones because you like that color better!
 
B: <I swear he rolled his eyes at me, and sighed>. Yes!