This evening I was summoned to the kitchen by Maeve, who was standing in front of the pantry. She was pointing up at the shelves and whining for something to eat. Reilly used to do this when she was the same age, and it drives me as crazy now as it did then.
Since Maeve can’t tell me what she wants, I pick up item after item and say, “Do you want this?” until my increasingly irritated child acquiesces. In this case, I hit on the magic item after passing over the goldfish and veggie booty—it was the cookies.
I said, “Do you want a cookie?” and Maeve said, “Yes.” (I already miss Maeve’s old way of saying yes, which was a Jersey-ish “Shyeah.”)
I gave Maeve a cookie, and then she said, “Reiree?”
And I said, “You want a cookie for Reilly too?”
And she said, “Yes.”
I gave her the cookie and she dutifully walked it into the living room and handed it over to her sister.
Shawn, from the other room—overhearing it all—said, Aww!
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