When I tried to trim her nails this morning, Tessa was, let's say, resistant. She ran out to the hall and hid her hands behind her back.
She had logic on her side.
"But Mommy! When somesing is hard in my nose and I want to get it out and frow it in da' twash, it will be hawrd to get it out!"
(Please note her subtle attempts to persuade me that it would not be popped directly in her mouth. Stealth.)
(Pause to hide my laughter)
I explained that the petri-dish of bacteria she was growing under her soil encrusted nails could make her sick if she put her fingers in her mouth.
"But I wanna get sick, cuz den I will get Popsicles
like Ellie did."
I think I lost this one before I even
got out of bed this morning.