A week at Grandma's house has done much to thwart all my good child-rearing habits. As usual.
A script from this morning:
Little One: Good morning, Mama. Let's watch something on TV.
Mama: Why don't we have breakfast?
Little One: Yes! Cookies and TV!
Mama: How about eggs and then maybe we could paint something together?
Little One: (Face collapsing into a tremendous pout, with tears on the verge of overflowing) But Mama, Grandma always lets me watch TV. You're a naughty Mama. I want to go back to Grandma's house. You're so mean! (Threatened tears now materialize and overwhelm. A brief stint face down on the kitchen floor ensues.)