Choices, Choices, Choices

I am upstairs, where there is no kitchen. The girl is downstairs where there is a kitchen with a drawer full of forks.

The girl: Mommy, will you get me a fork?
Me: No, get your own fork.

Silly me. I go downstairs a few minutes later to find her eating noodles with her fingers.
Me: Did I not tell you to go get a fork?
The girl: Yes.
Me: Then why aren’t you using a fork?
The girl: I thought I had a choice.

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