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Me: C’mon, baby. Get out of the car. We’re home. Tyrant: I not a baby. I a princess. Me: Sorry. C’mon, princess. Tyrant: We not going home. Me: You’re right. We’re not home. This is your castle. Tyrant: (Gasp!) Oh, my castle! Me: Isn’t it beautiful? Tyrant: Yes! It’s so beautiful! I got it at Target. Me: Really? Tyrant: And yook! I got [...] The Pterodactyl wants to see a picture of his birth mother, and I don’t want to show it to him. Now that he’s five, he thinks he has all sorts of rights. He forages through the pantry right before dinner and begins late-night projects involving tape and dental floss. You know what we do about that? [...] |
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