This morning, after playing in the sink with the beloved Lightning McQueen and Cheerios cars while Mommy showered and dressed, the not-quite-3-year-old who rules my world pedded toward the stairs in his Curious George pajamas requesting breakfast. As we neared the top of the stairs, he turned to me seriously and said "You are my sunshine." I responded, of course, "You are *MY* sunshine." This quickly became a debate.
"No, you are MY sunshine."
"Yes, and you are MY sunshine."
"No, Mommy - you are MY sunshine!"
"And you are MY sunshine too, honey."
"NO! MOMMY! YOU ARE (growling) MYYYYYY sunshine!"
I let him win.
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