During one of my thirty-five trips to the store today, Freya was playing and singing happily to herself en route to Walgreens. We pull up to the drug store drive-through and park in line to await our opportunity for self-medication. We have some time, so I put the car in park and turn to face my chirpy 3-year old to ask her what she’s playing. She announces, while hushing me with a wave of her little hand, that she’s on the phone. She looks out the window while “listening” carefully to her fist and declares, “I need my problem, to be your problem.” Says goodbye, then looks at me and says, “Now you can talk to me.”
I might need a lawyer.