Either someone told TD2 that a tummy ache was her Get Out of Jail Free card, or she took it upon herself to decide that. Either way, every conversation in our house now sounds like:
Convo 1:
T-Mommy/T-Daddy: Eat your food.
TD2: But Mommy/Daddy, my tummy hurt.
Convo 2:
T-Mommy/T-Daddy: Go to bed.
TD2: Mommy/Daddy, my tummy hurt.
Convo 3:
T-Mommy/T-Daddy: Clean your room.
TD2: But Mommy/Daddy, my tummy hurt.
When that doesn’t work, she just runs to us, rubs our face and ever so sweetly says, “I want you!”
-_-
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