Miles was sitting next to me on the couch just before bedtime. “Can I have a drink?” he asked.
“You want to finish your apple juice?” I said, referring to the juice box he got at dinner but never finished.
“No,” Miles said, “because I might spill it.” I was pretty impressed by his self-assessment (and concern over the welfare of the new couch that we’ve evidently finally instilled in him).
Still, I didn’t completely agree with his assessment. “But I could just put the apple juice in one of your sippy cups…?”
Miles nodded, not having considered that option. “True dat,” he conceded.
The Perils (& Pride) of Paternity 