Nate is upstairs crying, loudly, in his bed.
We were all warm and cuddly, and I read stories and tucked him in, and then, moments before I left the room, he said "I want a stuffy!"
(A stuffy is a stuffed animal, folks.)
I said, "OK, get one."
He said, "No. I want YOU to get me one."
I said, "No. You need to get it yourself."
And then the wailing mess we have upstairs.
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