Momnesia

Sometimes it doesn't matter how nicely they ask

Augusta, GA. - Emmie's just out of the bath tub, running around in her "Memo" towel.

"Mama? Do you wanna smell me?"

"Sure, honey," I laugh, and inhale at her neck. "Mmmmm. You smell like flowers and rainbows and unicorns."

"Do you wanna smell my bootie?"

"Uh, no."

"Why not?"

"I just don't."

"Come on."

"No, thank you."

"Come on."

"No, sweetie."

"I promise you it won't be stinky."

"I believe you."

"Just smell it."

"No."

"Come on. Just one time."

"Emmie, I do not want to smell your bootie. I'm sure it smells like flowers, but no thanks."

"Maybe Daddy will give you some candy," she sings.

"No, I don't need any candy."

"Mama, I promise. It won't be stinky. And you get candy. Really."

"No, ma'am."

"Please."

"No."

"PRETTY please."

"NO. Emmie. I do not want to smell your bootie. That's it."

She begins to walk away, dramatically dejected, when an idea occurs to me: "Actually, why don't you go ask Daddy?"