This Bodes Ill

So the other day, son, can of Play-Doh in hand, you marched up to me and asked, “Daddy open?”  Naturally I was in the middle of doing something which made your question not a particularly well-timed one, but that’s par for this course, so I didn’t give that any thought.  But I was a little perplexed what had brought you and your Play-Doh from the family room (where I knew your mother and Lala were sitting) to ask me instead. . . in the bathroom.  Accordingly, I made a mental note to ask this very question of either your mother or Lala as soon as time allowed . . . and opened your can of Play-Doh for you.

It turns out, of course, that you had asked your mother, and she had told you no because she wasn’t quite ready yet to guard against any “Play-Doh being ground into the carpet” incidents.  Upon being told this, without missing a beat, you turned and went straight toward where you knew I was to ask me . . . in the bathroom.  This behavior is stereotypical of childhood for a reason, so you doing this is a developmental milestone, so congratulations on that (sort of), but that’s not really the reason why I’m telling you this.

You see, once I learned the backstory behind your request, I asked your mother and Lala why they let you get away with such an obvious ploy.  “Because,” I was told, “once we realized what he was doing, we were too busy laughing for either of us to stop him.”

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