M.I.N.E.

Addison and I were driving to StrollerFit yesterday, just the two of us, when she clutched her Doodle Pro tightly to her chest and said, rather emphatically, to the window:

No. RyRy. NO. MINE

And thus began the soundtrack to the rest of my day.

Rylan came over to play yesterday for about three hours. Throughout that period I heard No. RyRy. NO. MINE about fifteen THOUSAND times.

NO RYRY...don't touch my Easter Eggs. MINE.

NO NONO RYRY...don't play with my grocery cart. MINE.

NONONO RYRY...get your hands off my magnets. MINE.

NO RYRY NO...don't go near my kitty. MINE.

NO RYRY NO...don't pick up your cup. MINE.

NO NO NO RYRY...don't you dare eat your mac-n-cheese in my chair. MINE.

NO RY. NO RYRY...don't you hug my mama. MINE.

NO RYRY NO...don't look out my window or touch my chair or breath. MINE.

Oh, dear lord, has my bossy toddler reared her little head. Shockingly, for the most part, Rylan acquiesced.

Once in a while Ry would start to boss back, but he'd forget why he was bossing as soon a new toy entered his eye line, or a bird squawked outside, or the cat entered the room.

I will gladly welcome the word bubbles back into our daily lives, if MINE would hightail it out of here.