You still do not give the orders. You cannot boss your brothers around. You certainly may not boss your father and I around. You’re still the child. Your brothers are not that much younger than you. And no, a threat is not the same thing as asking.
You are not allowed to say “no” to requests from authority. I know you’re a little confused because I say “please,” but let me assure you, it’s a command, not an option.
You still may not have soda. I don’t care who can have soda. You may not. I’m your mother. He’s not my son. Just eat your fries. And one day you will see the irony in that statement too.
Yes, I am willing to discuss allowance. I already know you’re the only one of your friends not to get one. You don’t know it though. I’m just not sure if I should tie it to chores or not and how much and should I insist you save some, and basically I just get a headache thinking about it.
Yes, you may get that book at the library. I’ve been trying to get you to pick out a book from the library by yourself for years. After the allowance thing is settled, let’s get you a card.
Please stop planning your seventh, eighth, and ninth birthday parties. You’re growing to fast as it is.
Six years ago today I insisted that I wasn’t in labor and insisted on drugs, as much as I could handle. He insisted on canceling our plans to see the Angels play and the King Tut exhibit and insisted that he come hours sooner than the doctor predicted.