The Power of "Please"

Louder is better. Right?

So we're working on "please" with "thank you" hard on its heels.

(And at this point I have to question why it's so important that we say "please" all the time. Is it training for when it's actually important? When is it actually important? There's something wheedle-y about non-stop "please-s." And some sort of expectation of entitlement. I need to think about this.)

But to please Grandmas — and QFC clerks — everywhere, we're learning to say "please."

Two immediate results:

1) There is some toddler logic applied that if "please" is the magic word, then the desired result will be achieved when "please" is said loudly, repeatedly and as distinctly as a 20 month old palate will allow. Right?

Driving downtown just after a nap with a baggie of chex mix (commonly referred to as "O's") provided a chance to test this hypothesis.

Yeah. It works. But I had no idea I tuned him out so much while driving; a little freaky there.

2) My mom had her first ... I don't know what a good descriptor is ... Deviant Grandma? Siding with the Grandson? Betrayal of the Eldest Daughter?... moment.

Myles was with me at Grandma's asking for treats — O's probably — and I said no. We were going home, he had already had a lot of O's, and there is a reason we call chex mix "colon blow." But Mom gave me a look that was both pleading and placating saying, "He said 'pleeeease' ... "

I can't fight the both of them.