This girl loves her some sonwedge. She asks for it in the morning (after her chocolate milk and Dora, of course). She requests it at lunch. And here we are at almost bedtime, with those big blue eyes and a mournful, “Sonwedge?” leveled at me.
Unfortunately, I manage to forget what the heck she is talking about each and every time she asks for sonwedge. We go through the whole rigamarole. Me: “Sandwich? No. Umm…what do you want?!” And then it hits me: sausage. Her favorite yummy sausage patties. Every time, we do this. It’s like a bit. Except that it’s not. I’m just too frazzled to remember from one moment to the next. It’s a good thing she’s so patient.