Request Denied - An Ode to My Daughter

Your request for cheese has been denied.

From the tufts of shredded colby jack in the folds of your shirt to the hills of the same scattered across your tray, I marvel that you seek to accumulate more, and yet I can plainly see you extend your chubby arm toward the bag and utter a command I now know to be "cheese". Your request for additional cheese has been denied.

Likewise, I regret to inform you that your request for "choklit nilk" was unsuccessful. It isn't because I don't want to forego eating my hot supper to arise once more, empty the contents of your sippy cup, and mix for you a serving of chocolatey goodness. No, my child, I have a burning drive to fulfill your heart's desire. The problem is that if I give you a cup of chocolate milk, then I will have do the same for your brother, and I don't think that will leave me enough time to clean your unmentionable out of the carpet, pick up the plethora of items that your brother threw down the stairs, eat a cold supper, convince the dog to eat all the cheese you've dropped, read you a story, and put you to bed before your mother's twitch becomes permanent. I've really had to watch her lately.

Even as I draft this official response, I perceive that you've begun to formulate your request for reconsideration. Your small features and vibrant eyes wholly captivate as you stare intently into my heart and plead so sweetly. You've carefully thought this through, I can tell, and no courtroom attorney ever poured as much raw emotion before the judge as you are now to me. Unfortunately, I can't understand a word you just said.

Request denied.