On the drive to school, from the backseat out of nowhere.
Punkin: “Daddy, I think you are beautiful.”
Me: “Thank you so much. I think you are beautiful.”
Punkin: “Do you think you are beautiful?”
Me: “No but thank you for saying it.”
Punkin: “Well, you are beautiful.”
Hard to reconcile this with the child who 13 hours earlier was in full tantrum mode on the floor, crying about how she wanted to be the one to take her clothes off before bathtime while refusing to do it.
