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Four-year-olds are like tiny little scientists. They ask questions about everything. "Why is the sky blue? Where do clouds go? Why is that man's nose so big?" And you find yourself explaining complex concepts like gravity to someone whose biggest concern should be finding their other sock. The other day, my kid asked me where babies come from. I panicked and started talking about storks, but he wasn't having it. He gave me this skeptical look, like, "Mom, do you really expect me to believe that a bird delivered me to the doorstep?" I can't wait for the day he realizes I'm just making this up as I go.
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I've realized that a 4-year-old is the ultimate negotiator. They can turn any situation to their advantage. Like, my kid wanted a toy at the store, and I said, "No, not today." You know what he did? He unleashed the waterworks, turned on the charm, and suddenly, I'm the bad guy denying him the joy of a new action figure. And don't get me started on bedtime negotiations. It's a strategic battle of delaying tactics. "I need water." "I have to pee." "There's a monster under my bed." I'm over here thinking I'm putting him to bed, but in reality, he's putting me through a mental gymnastics routine.
So, kudos to the 4-year-olds out there; you're mastering the art of negotiation before you even hit kindergarten.
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You ever spend time with a 4-year-old? They're like tiny little dictators, ruling your household with an iron fist and a juice box. My kid thinks he's the boss, and I'm just the unpaid intern cleaning up his mess. The other day, he gave me this look, you know the one that says, "You work for me, minion." And I'm thinking, "Dude, I changed your diapers; show some respect!"
I tried negotiating with him once. I said, "How about we compromise on bedtime?" He looked at me dead in the eyes and said, "Nap time is for the weak." I'm telling you, negotiating with a 4-year-old is like trying to negotiate world peace with a gremlin.
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Have you ever tried to negotiate with a 4-year-old over snacks? It's like a high-stakes poker game, but with goldfish crackers. I'll be in the kitchen, and he'll waltz in, demanding snacks like he's the head of the household. He's got this technique where he bats his eyelashes and says, "Pleeease, just one more cookie?" And you think, "Okay, maybe just one won't hurt." Next thing you know, you've handed over the entire cookie jar, and he's living his best life on a sugar high.
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