What was once a little problem is quickly turning into a very BIG problem. My dear husband, let's call him Sucker for the purpose of this post, is weak. Very weak. I have known this for years and years. If I want something, all I have to do is bat an eyelash or two, generate some crocodile tears, or ask for it in a sweet little voice. Any of the aforementioned strategies will result in him immediately doing whatever it is that I want. I could say, "Buy me Canada," and he would do it.

I choose to use my power very sparingly. After all, if he buys me Canada, there probably won't be enough money left in the checking account for that Grande Nonfat Caramel Macchiato that I so desperately need a few times a week. And, well, without that Macchiato, everybody around me would be looking for a plane so that they could fly me over Canada and drop me out into the vast nothingness with the hope that I wouldn't find my way back home. With power comes responsibility. I understand that.

Alexis also possesses this power. And you better believe she knows it. Only, she doesn't use it sparingly. Oh no, she uses it endlessly. I'm home with her for over an hour before Sucker gets home and she never even so much as glances at the TV. Sucker walks through the door and suddenly you will hear, "I want Dora." Guess who Tivo's every single episode of Dora? And turns it on the second it's requested? Uh huh.

Later in the evening, just before bed time, I can guarantee you that Alexis will starting asking for monkeys. A "monkey" in our house is a package of corn syrup and sugar mixed with whatever chemical it is that allows tooth-rotting, hyper-inducing fruit snacks to take on their given shape. Once upon a time, the shape of choice was Curious George, so the nasty little things gained the name "monkey." Anyway, in my mind, fruit snacks would be the exact opposite of a good idea for a bedtime snack. So of course I say no whenever Alexis asks for them (the only reason I even buy them is to stash in the car and my purse for use in case of emergency). Sucker? He hands them right over.

Both situations are known annoyances. I nag, he does it anyway. However, Sucker has started to look over his shoulder as he caves in faster than you can say AHEM. That tells me he has actually heard a minuscule portion of my nagging and his brain is working towards figuring out a way to make his daughter happy without having his wife kill him. In other words, there might be hope.

Except, EXCEPT, that she is getting more creative in her use of her powers. She's like a little witch apprentice honing her skills. Case in point, last Sunday I got a call on my cell phone while I was rushing out to meet Jen. "Since when does she freak out for french fries when she sees McDonald's?"

I replied, "Since never."

"Really? Because she started freaking out that she wants french fries when I drove by."

Our conversation continued for a few minutes while I explained that she has never once asked for french fries when I drove past, and we HAVE to drive past to get to pretty much anywhere. Then it dawned on me that I should ask one very important question. "Where are you?"

"McDonald's."

Sucker.

(Of COURSE she has had Starbucks. What kid doesn't like Hot Cocoa?)