When David was about 2, every morning when he woke up he would ask for a cookie.
And point to the cabinet where he knew I kept them.
They were just those non-Oreo cookies. You know the kind I mean.
And I would give him a cookie. He'd smile and eat the cookie. And never ask for another cookie until the next morning, when we would start the new day with the same ritual.
Peter (almost 5): "Can I have a cookie, pwease?"
Mama: "Sure, here you go."
Peter: "Now some milk."
Mama: "That's not how you ask."
Peter: "Some milk, pweease!"
Mama: "Try again."
Peter: "Pweease, can I pweease have some milk pweease?"
Mama: "Here's your milk."
Peter (licking his milk mustache): "Can I have a cookie, pwease?"
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