Tonight, my son sagely informed me, “I was so patient as a baby. I really was! I wasn’t hitty at all. But then I grew up and now I am. I try to concentrate and be good, though.” I reassured him that the important thing was to try, even if he didn’t always succeed; he accepted that, but continues to assert that he won’t get any older: “I got to four, but I won’t have any more numbers. I’m going to be little forever!”
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