Dog Food (Or Why Not to Joke With an Almost Two Year Old)

About a week ago….
Jay:  Bubba….what do you want for breakfast?
Bubba:  No.
Jay:  Do you want Frosted Flakes?
Bubba:  No.
Jay:  Cheerios?
Bubba:  No.
Jay:  A bar?
Bubba:  NO.
Jay:  Dog food?
Bubba:  Yeah.
Jay:  ???
Bubba:  Dog foooood.  Bubba want dog food.
Jay:  Bubba, you can’t have dog food.
Bubba:  Doooooog fooooood.  Bubba want dog food.
Jay:  Bubba, Daddy was joking.  We don’t even have any dog food.  Let’s have a bar.
Great, dramatic tantrum ensues on the floor.  Whining, tears, kicking, etc.

The dog food has been brought up at least twice since that day, once by Daddy, once by Bubba.  Seems that neither of them has learned.

This morning…
Jay:  Bubba, what do you want for breakfast?
Bubba:  (Some inaudible whisper.)
Jay:  What Bubba?  What do you want for breakfast?
Bubba:  (Same inaudible whisper.)
Jay:  Bubba, I can’t hear you.  Tell Daddy what you want.
Bubba:  (This time in a barely audible whisper)….dog food.
Jay:  !!!

Jay:  Ok, Bubba, how about a dog food bar?
Bubba:  Yea!

Something tells me we’ll be eating dog food bars for quite a while in our house.