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The little one….ohh, the little one.  She’ll be the death of me.

“We need to pick your sister up at school today.  She has a dentist appointment and you need to come with me.  So where’s your game?  We better get your game charging or you’re going to be one bored girl,” I tell her.

“My game is in my room.”

“Then go get it so we have time to get it charged.”

She marches downstairs to her room, and is banging at the door between the downstairs portion of the house, and the upstairs.  “Mom!  Help!” she’s yelling.  “My hands are too full!”

I open the door and she has game, charger and an assorted array of cartridges.  We get her game charging and I say, “Alright, you need to get dressed.”

She huffs.  “I better not do all this work and then you find someone to babysit me! I’m doing all this work FOR YOU!”

I asked you to get dressed, not build the Great Pyramids of Giza.

After she gets dressed, I say, “So what are we having for lunch?”

“Um, peanut butter jelly?”  Her go to.  She has asked for peanut butter and jelly for lunch every day for the last eighteen months.  I wish I was exaggerating.

“Well, I’d tell you that you were having left over pot roast, BUT we had an unfortunate incident in which the dogs ATE it off the counter last night, so there’s no pot roast left.”

“Yessss!” she cheers.  “I didn’t want that anyway!” She calls into the living room, where the dogs are napping, “THANK YOU DOGS!”

I can’t help but laugh.  We get through our peanut butter and jelly sandwiches together and I say, “Alright, get your socks and shoes on.”

She wanders around the house.  Aimlessly.  She finds a toy cell phone somewhere and starts an imaginary phone call with a pizza place.  She requests a double slice pizza (?) with extra cheese.

“WHY are your shoes and socks still not on your feet?” I’m exasperated.  Getting her to do anything requires a considerable amount of effort.

“Uh, I’m looking for them, duh!”

“I’m sorry.  Did you just ‘duh’ me?”

“Yup.  I duh-ed you.”

I knew once she got a good grip on the English language, we wouldn’t like what she had to say.  At least when she was talking gibberish, we didn’t know what kind of idiots she took us for.