This morning you were making up a new song about a “twirly swing” at the park, little one. You were in the midst of creation, inventing the lyrics and the melody at that very moment, when you insisted that I sing along.
There was no way for me to know what the words or melody were, since you didn’t actually know them either until they came out of your mouth, yet you became quite angry with me for failing to sing along.
You do this all the time.
It’s one of those few moments when you can be incredibly cute and incredibly annoying at the same time.
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