Tonight, I had to make a decision. It was 5 o’clock post meridiem. There was time either to make dinner or make cookies. Not both.
Against my crappy judgment, I decided to bake cookies. Cookies for dinner. I’m hoping this will spell the end of bedtime conversations like this one with a certain 4-year-old:
Me: Good night, sweetie. I love you.
Him: I don’t love you, Mommy. I love Daddy.
Husband: (smiling and shrugging in my direction) I’m sorry that I rule.