Hope was lying on the kitchen floor this afternoon, perfecting her temper tantrum skills and having a fit about needing sugar to make her (totally fake) hiccups go away. My good friend Katherine was here to pick up Sami The Labradoodle who had been at our house for a playdate. (Yes. A dog playdate. Be quiet.)
Katherine inquired, "What is she crying about?"
"She wants a spoonful of sugar to make her fake hiccups go away."
Hope takes a break from crying and writhing on the floor, "THEY'RE NOT FAAAAAAKE!"
Katherine, bending over to look Hope square in the eye, "Hope, you know that I'm a nurse, right?"
"Yeah," (totally assuming the Katherine The Nurse will prescribe a large spoonful of sugar to make the hiccups go away).
Katherine: "Sugar will ROT YOUR TEETH DIDN'T YOUR MOTHER EVER TELL YOU THAT?"
Hope, " ."
(That's my representation of silence. Blessed, quiet, peaceful, chagrined silence.)