"No, Honey, I can't," I replied.
"No. I really can't. I don't have the pan."
"What pan?" he asked as though I was making this part up.
I pointed to the television. "That pan. The one they're selling."
His shoulders sagged. "Uh oh!" He's been saying that lately. Every time I tell him to do something he doesn't want to do or that we can't do something he does want to do or that it's bedtime or that his battle needs to be picked up or, or, or...the list is endless, really.
Minutes later I found him in the kitchen. He was standing on the stool. On the counter in front of him was a loaf of bread, a melon baller, chili powder, garlic salt and cream of tartar.
"What are you doing?" I asked.
He held up the melon baller. "I'm gonna make cake pops!"