Competitive Dad

While trying to fix the dishwasher, I made a mess on the floor by throwing all the carrier bags under the sink on the floor. Kimberley came into the kitchen and saw the punnet of plums and wanted one. Altaa was in the kitchen too and we jousted for Kimberley's favour as to whose mess it was. I said, "You can have the plum, if you say, 'Mummy's mess'." She came to claim the fruit twice but when I reiterated my demand, each time she backed away. Seeing my bribery failing in the face of her integrity, I gave her the fruit. Like a US congressional member taking money from a lobbyist but legally in the absence of a direct quid-pro-quo yet later upholding the lobbyist's interests, munching away on the fruit, she cried, "Mummy's mess!" That's successful parenting.

Earlier, inspired by Mongolian parents who carry their well-wrapped young through the streets like a sack of potatoes, I was carrying Kimberley as she had refused to walk and decided to sling her over my shoulder like the proverbial bag of spuds.  This new twist to being hoisted in the air gave her great merriment.  I said, "You're a sack of potatoes," to which she concurred in that child's third-person perspective, "Kimberley [is] sack of potatoes."  Given that she provocatively states, 'no' when we are complimenting her, inducing much laughter, her adoption of today's moniker is interesting.