My four-year-old daughter unearthed a stray can of Coors Light from the back of the fridge this morning. I was on the telephone and juggling emails when she pressed the cold metallic cylinder into my leg.
"Mommy, open this for me.'
I looked down at my baby girl, clutching her Coors Light can, and shook my head.
"No, babes. That is light beer."
"Oh," she said. "Light beer is not for me." She put it back in the fridge, sighing heavily as the door shut.
Even earlier today, I was arguing with my eight-year-old. She wasn't seeing my point, and my explanations were not working out. My four-year-old pushed me aside with an impatient gesture.
"I've got this," she announced, a hand on her hip.
As we hurried to get out the door this morning, I did my usual "come on, come on, hurry up, let's move, we're going to be late if you don't move..." monologue.
My youngest marched to the door and spoke over her shoulder at her slower siblings.
"All right. Let's do this thing."
What will come out of her mouth next?