“I’m sorry, honey, you can’t have cookies. You haven’t even had breakfast yet!”
“I know you’re upset, but you can’t. Maybe you can have one with your lunch?”
“Yes, I know where they are, and I know exactly which one you want, but I’m sorry, no, not now.”
“The funny faces aren’t going to work, Maddie.”
A moment of silence while we come up with Plan B.
“I’m glad you’re feeling a bit better. A little later, I promise.”
There, there, the fingers make everything better.
A momentary lapse as the memory of the cookie comes rushing back.
No almost-two-year-olds were harmed in the taking of these pictures. I’m certain that when she’s a teenager, I might regret posting these, but in the meantime, while I still retain control, all bets are off. My little drama queen. Minutes later, still without said cookie, she was throwing her arms around me, “Hug, Mommy, Hug!” and all was forgiven.