Post One Hundred Nineteen: My daughter wants to eat breakfast

Tuesday, 5:40 a.m. A call comes from my youngest daughter's (two years old) room:

"I want to eat breakfast."

It's loud and piercing, yet almost sung. Woke me up from my early morning doze.

"I want to eat breakfast."

The wife and I try to ignore it, thinking she'll find something more interesting to do in her room.

"I want to eat breakfast."

"I want to eat breakfast."

"I want to eat breakfast."

"I want to eat breakfast."

"I want to eat breakfast."

"I want to eat breakfast."

"I want to eat breakfast."

"I want to eat breakfast."

At this point we are both giggling, somewhat exasperated, but really, we want to see how far she'll take it.

"I want to eat breakfast."

"I . . . want . . . to . . . eat . . . breakfast."

Ah-ha, some slight variation.

"I . . . want . . . to . . . eat . . . breakfast."

"I . . . want . . . to . . . eat . . . breakfast."

"I want to eat breakfast."

Back to the original chant, apparently.

"I want to eat breakfast."

"I want to eat cereal."

What's this? She's gotten specific!

"I want to eat cereal."

"I want to eat cereal."

"I want to eat cereal."

"I . . . want . . . to . . . eat . . . cereal."

"I . . . want . . . to . . . eat . . . cereal."

"I want to eat breakfast."

"I want to eat breakfast."

"I want to eat breakfast."

Slowly but surely getting louder now . . .

"I want to eat breakfast."

"I want to eat cereal."

"I want to eat breakfast."

Until she walks into our room. At which point, at 5:55 in the a.m., I get up (yeah, like my wife was going to get out of bed) and give my lovely, precious, youngest daughter Life cereal, apple juice, and a drinkable yogurt.