“C was just in time out.”
“Oh” I say as I sit on the floor holding my child who has just launched herself into my arms.
“She hit G.”
“Oh.” My sweet child hit another child?
“Well, actually, that’s not why she was in time out.”
“Oh?” By now K must think I’m the most articulate parent around.
“She hit G because she wanted the toy he had, he gave it to her, and then she hit him again.”
That’s my daughter, always a lady. I hope the mafia is still around when she grows up, clearly she has a future working for them.