I am pretty good about giving Mary Clare a wide berth during the wake up phase, but apparently I pushed it this morning. I walked into her room to find her playing in the corner with her stuffed animals. I started making her bed and said, "Mary Clare, let's get dressed, and then you can play until it's time to go."
She whipped her head around, gave me some serious steely eyes and said, "Uh-uh. That's not going to work for me."
After I composed myself, I managed to get out a fairly even, "Well, it's going to have to work for you because that's the way we're doing it. Get dressed, and then you can play."
Of course, Chip strolled in just then, and spying the death rays shooting from Mary Clare's eyes, wanted to know what was going on. "It will wait," I hissed. "Just tell her to get dressed. And to stop glaring at her mother."
Thankfully, he rolled with it. Because if I had told Chip at that moment what Mary Clare said, we would have both lost it, as well as the last bit of sway we hold over our first born.