SHE DID WHAT? IN MY CRIB? / BIG MISTAKE
A Mafia Baby post.
At nursery pickup a three-year-old in a waistcoat informs you that the red scooter is his, the blue scooter is his, and the scooter you came with is, as of this afternoon, also his. His mum apologises. He doesn't. Your niece has decided who sits where at Sunday lunch. Grandad has been moved. Nobody argues. She doesn't raise her voice. She doesn't need to. She just looks at the chair. Bedtime is seven. At 6:58 your son requests a meeting. He has terms: one more story, a glass of water and the landing light on. He's prepared to be reasonable. You don't want to find out what unreasonable looks like. In the biscuit aisle a toddler in a trolley stares at you while his dad picks up a packet he clearly didn't want. Something was agreed earlier, and you weren't part of it. The biscuits are going in the trolley. **Why it caught on:** a scowling toddler in a tiny tuxedo and bow tie, gesturing like Don Corleone in The Godfather (1972), looked so much like a crime boss that the internet handed him a family business. Every parent has negotiated with someone that small, and lost.