Yesterday morning I was sitting in the kitchen, drinking my coffee and messing around on the computer. Miss T was busy in her play kitchen, feeding her favorite doll.
I was only sort of listening to her tiny, one-sided conversation. “Are you hungry, Baby Beth? Here you go, Baby Beth. Have some pizza. It’s yummy.”
After a moment, cheerful chattering gave way to a stern lecture. “You in time out, Baby Beth. NO, NO, Baby Beth. Dat’s not nice.” The scolding continued, culminating in something I wasn’t quite sure I’d heard correctly.
I was only half-listening, after all.
I turned around. “Miss T,” I asked, “why is Baby Beth in time out?”
“Because,” came the answer, plain as day. “She punched me in the nuts.”
