I had an adversarial relationship with Brighton all morning. He’s been a little whirlwind of destruction.
I finally drew a line and insisted that he pick up the cards and pieces of Candyland that he’d scattered through the hall.
“Can I have some mango?”
“No, not until you pick up Candyland.”
“I’m not hungry.”
And so on. After extensive pouting and pretending to nap and semi-voluntary confinement to his room and plenty of whining, he comes up to me.
“Daddy, would you help me pick this up? I would ‘preciate that.”