Brat

I was making lunch yesterday in the kitchen when Sully came up to me.

Now, you need to know that Shaun and I's approach to the TV rule is on opposite spectrum. I have a somewhat hardcore approach ... unless you're sick on your deathbed to warrant marathon carton watching - you get a cartoon in the morning with your breakfast, and then one at night before bed, after you've eaten and bathed. Daddy ... well not so much. And that's fine. We just have different feelings about it. (Sully can usually be found with Shaun watching hockey. A surprise, I know.)

Well, apparently the two-year-old has caught on fast about whose a quick TV sale and whose not.

Okay, so back to the kitchen, where he came up to me and very politely asked,

"Mommy, TV please?" and cocked his head to the side and gave a big toothy smile.

He was selling himself hard, let me tell you. I bit my lip trying not to laugh.

"I really like the way you asked. But we have music on right now."

"Mama! TV PLEASE!" ... the sweet smile now being replaced with an abrupt I'm-really-serious-right-now-foot-stomp.

"Not right now. We're about to each lunch."

"Wheres Daddy?!"

I thought this wasn't suppose to start until they were like, teenagers. Freakin' brat.