The Boy: Mommy, I’m going to fix my cymbal. My hi-hat cymbal. <Pause> And I don’t need your help.
Me: OK.
TB: Last time I fixed it, it didn’t work.
Me: Blank stare.
TB: Will you help me fix it, Mommy?
Me: No. You just told me you didn’t need my help.
TB: That’s OK, Mommy. You don’t have to help me if you don’t want to.
