Seth is the quintessential phlegmatic. He loves nothing more than to sit reclining in his little comfy chair, watching a video, clutching his "clothie" and sucking his thumb. Sometimes he also wants his Sippy cup. Such was the case yesterday. "Mommy, I want my Sippy," he informed me.
"It's on your bed," I reminded him. "Just go and get it."
"No." He had a better idea. "You go get it."
Now, I'm no rocket scientist, but I can recognize a bad deal. "Sorry, Bud, get it yourself if you want it."
Seth muttered and grumbled, but didn't budge. A few minutes later, Anaya triumphantly marched in with it. "Here's your Sippy, Sethie," she practically curtsied. "Now don't you feel happy? Wasn't I being nice?"
"That was very nice of you," I responded, surprised at such angelic tendencies.
They were not altogether without ulterior motive. "Well, Sethie," she settled into the chair beside him, "now do you want to marry me?"