Last night, L.A. Toddler and I were sitting on the couch waiting for the fabulous ‘ding’ of the doorbell (because it means our Chinese takeout has arrived! Ya-hoo! I don’t have to cook!) and she’s trying to convince me she’s entitled to a couple of the jelly beans that her dad has been holding over her for good behavior.

I’m sorting through the mail and look up. She’s standing there, holding the open bag of jelly beans, fist inside fishing for as many as she can hold in one hand.  So I say in my best mom tone, “I had better not see you put even one jelly bean in your mouth until after dinner. Those are for dessert, not an appetizer.”

She looks at me, seriously and firmly states, “Mommy, if you don’t want to see me… then just look away.”

A grin slices across her face and she shrugs her shoulders. My mouth opened, but I had nothing.  I reward her with one jelly bean for being so logical. I’m a total pushover, I know.