To say that we like sweets in our family is an understatement. Every one of us is plagued with a sweet tooth so strong and mighty, it's what I imagine a meth addiction to be like. I would tell you that I try to keep my own consumption limited to when Luke is in bed because I care about his weight, his teeth, and his overall health, but that's sort of a lie. I mean, I do care about those things, and I do mostly indulge my sweet tooth in the barren stillness of the night. But the main reason is because then, there's more for me. Sharing with him is such a bugger!
In a never-ending battle to make our kids somewhat civilized, we have taught Luke to say "please". Recently, we've added, "May I please have..." to his little bag of tricks. He's somehow deducted that by using basic manners, he's got the verbal equivalent of a Golden Ticket to Willy Wonka's Chocolate Factory. If he says, "Please, may I have a treat?" then badabing, badaboom, a tower of sugary delights shall be delivered to him by a troupe of smug, singing little people. It never works that way, and lately all he gets, if anything at all, is a gingersnap cookie. The really thin kind from World Market. Tough breaks when you're two!
Nonetheless, his wheels are always turning, trying to figure out how he's going to get his next fix. It didn't surprise me to hear about the following conversation he and his dad had earlier this week:
(Luke bashes his forehead into Joe's nose)
Joe: Ow, that really hurt!
Luke: I sorry, Daddy.
Joe: It's okay, Luke. I forgive you.
Luke: (thinks a minute) Could you please for-give me some Halloween candy?
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