For the past three years (almost), I’ve watched four little babies grow into four little boys. With the triplets almost three and Jack well into his fours, babysitting this little family has gone from watching little nuggets sleeping peacefully all in a row to trying to keep everyone from killing each other. Today, though, I went above and beyond my babysitting duties and actually tried to turn little men into little gentlemen. The discussion went something like this:

Tom: Kook-ee Jo-shee.
me: How do you ask me?
Tom: KOOK-ee, Jo-shee!
me: Tommy, we talked about this a few minutes ago–can you ASK for one?
Tom, clearly frustrated that I can’t understand his very plain English, stands on his tippy-toes, points to his outstretched hand, and bugs his eyes with the strain of conveying his meaning.
Tom: KOOK-EE JOSHEE. KOOKEE. GIMME KOOK-EE!
Jack appraises the situation and pipes up.
Jack: Josie, may I please have a cookie shaped like Spongebob?
I point to Jack and smile.
me: Yes, Jackson, you may have a Spongebob cookie. Thank you for asking so nicely.
Jack clutches his prize between his little fingers and turns to his innocent little brother.
Jack: See Tommy? That’s how you make her do what you want.
Tom’s face lightens with understanding and cunning as he turns to me with puppy dog eyes; he scrunches his little fingers up by his lips like he’s dying to eat any crumb I’m willing to pass him. “Peas,” he says meekly.

 

Somewhere along the line these boys got me whipped.

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