Maybe Baby

A preschooler today, arriving with his mom. He already bargaining as they walk up the stairs:
“Mommy, can we have ice-cream after?”
“Maybe, Baby.”
“Mommy, can have a play date with Yanny?”
“Maybe, Baby.”
“Maybe, Baby.”
“Can I watch TV?”
“Maybe, Baby.”

The duo arrives, bags down, coats shed, sticky hands washed (there had to have been one ‘yes’ among the ‘maybe’s!).

The boy takes his seat. Eyes still on Mom.
“Can I have pizza for dinner?”
Mom, distracted with the phone, as she had to have been coming up the stairs–the tone remained unchanged:
“Maybe, Baby.”

The little man is miffed by then, but he’s a clever chap. He ponders, brightens, looks at me. I smile benignly back–I want to see what he’s got planned.
“Mommy, do you love Marie more than me?”
“Maybe, Baby.”

He got her. And I think he got the ice-cream and the play-date, too.

You said, what?!

You said, what?!

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