I am lucky to currently have a flexible schedule. This means that most nights I fix dinner for my family.
Tonight, as I was busily stirring this and checking that, my five year old came in demanding a peanut butter sandwich.
“No. I’m not going to make you a peanut butter sandwich right now,” I said, proud of myself for my firm boundaries.
“What, are you just going to not get me anything until I die?” he retorted.
That escalated quickly.