“Rylie, if you don’t finish your plate, you’re not getting any dessert.”
“That’s not fair, Mom.”
“It’s perfectly fair.”
“Then how come you were eating mint chocolate chip last Saturday night while watching TV with Dad. I saw you shovel half those beans down the disposal at dinner.”
“You were supposed to be in bed, Rylie!”
“Nice try with the misdirection.”
“Well, I had had a hard week…and those beans were undercooked.”
“Not undercooked enough to feed them to your children.”
“Fine. You got me. You can have your dessert now.”
A devious smirk crosses Rylie’s face as she scoops up a big bite from her plate and stares into her mother’s weary eyes before swallowing and clearing her throat.
“I don’t want any dessert, Mom. And I’m gonna finish my plate. I just like beating you in arguments.”
“You’re impossible Rylie. You know that, right?”
“I do enjoy myself, if that’s what you mean,” says Rylie, taking another bite.