My boys always figured chances were never ending. Elder once even reminded me, “But Mo-om, God even gave Jonah a second chance.”
Yeah, argue that one.
Or with this one, from Younger, when he was three years old . . .
Younger enjoys bouncing on the sofa, despite my immediate protests. He usually takes a chance every week or so, just to check if I’ve changed my mind. And when I warn him with a simple and weary, “Younger,” he immediately follows with another attempt, just to check if I’m serious.
So, today, after the first admonishment and second bounce, I told him, “Younger, you do it again, and you’re in trouble.”
“Four more chances,” he bargained.
“No, you’ve got one more chance. You do it again, and you’re in trouble.”
“Four more chances,” he repeated, a clear threat to wail in his voice.
But I remained firm. “No.”
“But I want to do it four more times,” he cried.
And honesty is supposed to be an admirable trait.