So we’re driving home last night after taking a trip to Dairy Queen (Papa: chocolate malt, Mama/Norah: dairy-free watermelon “slushie”) and my wife and I were discussing the evening bathtime ritual: “Who do you want to give a bath to tonight?” “Don’t care.” “Why don’t we let Norah decide?”
“So Norah,” Rachel asks, “who would you like to give you a bath — Mama or Papa?”
“Mama.”
“That’s like the stock answer to everything when she has a choice between parents,” Rachel said. It’s true. I sometimes get miffed by things like that. But not when it comes to giving her a bath…
“Okay,” I say, “let’s test that theory. Norah, who would you like to give you a bedtime story, Mama or Papa?”
“Mama.”
“Who would you rather hang you upside down by your toenails? Mama or Papa?”
“Mama.” She’s smiling now. Oh, she’s SUCH a smartass.
“Who would you rather have dip your head in boiling oil?”
“Mama.” Giggles.
“Okay. Who would you rather…” …careful, now, not too scary… “uhm, paint you with honey and cover you with ants?”
Outright laughter. “Mama, mama, mama!”
My wife looks aghast. “Hey,” I say, “she wants you.“
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Okay so I just don’t get your photo but I love the dialog!
–Granna