Chocolate Kisses

This morning started off like almost every morning.

There was the 6:15 wake up call from Morgan.
There was the daily "put something on your feet" talk.
And there was soggy cereal, a staple in our house.

But somewhere between our groggy morning greeting and the (Hallelujah Chorus) S*esame Street hour, there was an altercation.

I don't even remember what triggered it, but I do remember my 4 year old humorously barking at me: "Mom! Stop loving me!"

A shadow of a memory came upon me; I'm certain I said that to my mother as well.

I took Morgan up on her offer. "Okay, I'll stop loving you. I'll be your sister instead. Good morning, sister! Would you like some chocolate for breakfast?"

She looked stunned. I gave her a piece of chocolate.

I continued, "And since you don't care about your poopies (she has constipation when she has too much sugar) how about some more chocolate?

I gave her a Lindt truffle ball. Her eyes were wide as she wolfed it down.

"Come to think of it, I have a cupcake here. Why don't you polish it off?" I emphasized that since she didn't care about her poopies, it would be okay.

But what's cake without ice cream? "Here, Morgan, how about some ice cream? You don't care about your teeth anyway, right?"

Her mouth, still full with cupcake, said something to the effect of, "Well, maybe I shouldn't have ice cream, just this cupcake."

I noticed that the dry cupcake was causing her to gag a little.

"Want some soda?" I offered. I was already pouring a 6 oz. of Sprite in a cup for her. This was getting fun.

"Um, well, I don't want my teeth to fall out. Maybe I'll just have the cupcake and no soda," she managed to say between bites.

Scratch earlier statement. This was fun.

I poured her some water in a cup. "You know, you can have whatever you want because I'm not your mom. I'm just your sister and I don't care if your poopies hurt."

I could be imagining it, but I think I saw a light turn on in that upstairs of hers.

I'll pay for this later today. With a very active and possibly constipated child.

Hopefully she'll know that she can't make me.
Stop.
Loving.
Her.