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:
T-Mommy/T-Daddy: Go to bed.
TD2: Mommy/Daddy, my tummy hurt.
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!”