This morning at 6:06 when the older boys came pounding down the stairs, already screaming and fighting over something. . .
Me: Good morning! Happy birthday, Charlie!
Charlie: No! It's not my birthday!
Me: You don't want to be three? You want to stay two?
Charlie: Yes. Is there ice cream yet?
This morning at 6:15 . . .
Me: I'm going to take your three-year-old picture!
"No! I don't want a picture!"*
Happy birthday, Charlie. Let's work on the "happy" part, okay?
* And then he smacked the camera, which went flying. I don't think it's broken, even though the batteries came out.