Several days ago, I was in the kitchen dealing with a whiny Parker. He wanted a drink, but wasn't being polite or helpful. So, this is the conversation that followed:
Me: Parker, please bring me your cup.
Parker: (From the floor) No-hohoo-oh!
Me: (As I hand him the cup) Do you think that I am your slave, or something? (I must say, asked in all honesty. But I don't think he knows what a slave is.)
Parker: No.
Emma: (exasperated) Well then pay her a few pennies!
. . .
Our mealtime prayers fall short of the ideal, pretty much all of the time. Truman is usually willing enough to fold his arms before we begin, but after sitting still for about two syllables, he counts it good and starts into his meal. Parker practices "watchful prayer" where he sits still, but his eyes won't shut. We're working on it. This was the attempt at breakfast:
Parker: Please bless Truman that he can learn to talk better. . .
And please bless him that he won't chew with his mouth open . . . (Truman falls silent.)
9 years ago