Abra Cadabra

Evelyn said “Please” last night. I almost fell over and died in mid-step. I literally stopped in my tracks and looked at her like she just told me she won the lottery. Getting Evie to say “please” and “thank-you” is like trying to get Hillary Clinton to accept defeat. Time-outs and tears haven’t been enough to get Evie to say those magic words. She just flat out refused. She preferred to just sort of belch what she wanted into the ethos. “Apple Juice!” “Blankie!” “Snack!” Early in the morning while Todd and I are still in bed she’ll watch TV in the living room. At some point she startles us awake with an “I’m hungry!” at the top of her lungs. She never asks. She DEMANDS. And when given the choice between saying please or spending the rest of eternity in her bedroom she’ll opt for a lifetime of solitary confinement.

So last night when Evie sweetly sang, “Mommy can I have some apple juice please,” I ran through a spectrum of emotion and feeling. First, utter shock. Second, VICTORY. Third, pride. And fourth, love. “Yes!” I barked. Then I ran over to her and kissed her all over and told her how proud I was of her and that “yes, of course, you can have apple juice because if you says please you can get whatever you want. Well, not whatever you want. It’s important for Mommy and Daddy to say ‘no’ sometimes because we know what’s good for you. But, oh, I’m so proud of you. You are the greatest.” I went on and on and on about how amazing she was for saying “please” until she interrupted me with the frustrated look I know so well.

“Mommy. My. Juice. Now.”

I really don’t know why I press my luck. But oh she did such a good job.