Scene: Mommyo, sleeping in after a rare night out. The Five-Year-Old walks into our bedroom and shakes my shoulder gently (for her). I pretend to keep sleeping, hoping that she’ll give up and go away (like that ever works).
The Five-Year-Old, plaintively: “Mommyo, can you please get up?”
Mommyo, petulantly: “I don’t want to.”
The Five-Year-Old, sagely: “Sometimes you have to do things you don’t want to do.”
Happy New Year, everyone!
