One More?

I came home from the Volkswagen dealership ready to write a big post about how never to buy a Volkswagen. They lure you in with their German engineering. They show you good looking, comfortable, peppy cars. They fail to tell you that you won't really have major things wrong with your car, but you'll constantly have little things wrong that will drive you crazy. These little things will keep you in their dealership once every couple of weeks.

Since this morning, I've calmed down. Instead, I have decided to write a little shout out to my dad. While he and my mom kept Charlotte a few weeks ago, while Judd and I were laying by the pool at the Ritz, he taught Charlotte how to say "one more" complete with her little finger sticking up to indicate the number 1. I'm sure that my parents thought this was soooo cute, and that she was soooo clever for having learned it - so every time she stuck up her pudgy finger and said "One More?", they would give in.

So, thank you, Dad. You have made it super easy for me to limit the number of peanut butter crackers this child consumes. She just doesn't understand why this cute act won't always get her what she wants. And, when it doesn't, there is a melt down. She's stubborn though, it doesn't deter her - she just keeps asking.