Looking back, I distinctly remember having heated conversations about my room. Like, that it was my room, and that no one else was allowed in it because it was mine. Of course, the ‘rents always let me down gently; reminding me who paid the bills and whatnot, but still.
I also distinctly remember being an angst-y teen at the time.
But today, I had a somewhat similar conversation with my four-year old.
It went something like “This is my room. This is not your room. Your bed is not even in here! Your clothes are not in here, your toys are not in here, anything! So it’s just mine!”
“…Well, I guess you can clean it up all by yourself then, since it’s just your room…”
“But I just can’t clean my room, Mom! Don’t you know it makes my feelings hurt…!?”
AND SHE’S FOUR.
Snap 14 Deets: Always with the hands on the hips. Always.