Tuesday night. 8:15 pm. The Kidling has been in bed for 20 minutes and has been getting up to complain about a variety of minor crises/concerns/excuses to get out of bed and complain. After the last concern (“my finger hurts“), The Dada said no more getting up unless there is a genuine, big problem.
Alice: (calls from upstairs) Dad!
The Dada: What is it, Alice?
Alice: It’s a problem. I have a big problem.
The Dada: What’s the problem?
Alice: I don’t have a diaper.
The Dada: What? (thinks) Umm… you know, you’re right. You don’t have a diaper. That is a big problem. (goes upstairs to help)