Mother:
Eat your breakfast, please. Try not to spill your milk. Pay attention to what you're doing.
Six-year-old son, Luca:
I am eating. You already said that.
Mother:
I know I did. But you're not eating. So eat. You, too, Dash.
Two-year-old son, Dash:
May (means yes).
Ten minutes later...
Mother:
Did you finish? It's time to get dressed and brush teeth. We're going to be late for school.
Luca:
I'm not done yet!
Mother:
Finish up, then!
Luca:
Can I play on the computer?
Mother:
After you get dressed and brush your teeth.
Luca:
But Mamae, you always say that! And I really, really want to just play one game, please?!?!
Mother:
Get dressed and brush your teeth.
Luca:
Just one, Mamae?! Please?!
Mother:
Get dressed and brush your teeth. If there is time after you do that, you can play a game.
Luca (stomping away):
Awwghwhghhh!!!
Mother:
Dash, let's get your diaper changed and put on clothes.
Dash (as his saggy-diapered-ass disappears down the hall):
No! I no wanna!
Mother:
Time to get dressed, Dashie! Come on...
Mother proceeds to chase down increasingly agile and quick-limbed two-year-old; wrangles him to the floor like some rodeo show scene gone horribly wrong; fights for every flailing limb; it is, after all, winter, and the child cannot leave the house naked. Much as the mother would prefer just that. Maybe in the summer...
Luca:
Can I play on the computer now?
Mother:
Did you brush your teeth?
Luca:
Yeeessss.
Mother:
Okay, five minutes.
Ten minutes later...
Mother:
Get your jacket and shoes on.
Luca:
Just one more?! Please?!
Mother:
Get your jacket and shoes on.
Luca:
But mamae!!
Mother:
I know this is shocking, and a new routine, and that we've never had to do this before, but please, get your jacket and shoes on.
Rinse. Repeat. And repeat. And repeat.
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