Brazenly disaffected

After reminding her about three times not to do it, and watching her do it, I called her back to where I was standing. "Look at me," I told her. "You haven't been listening. It's time to go upstairs right now for bed. And you're only getting one book tonight instead of two. And if this happens again tomorrow, you'll go to bed with no books at all."

She stared at me.

"You understand?"

She shrugged her shoulders, tucked her hands into her pants pockets, and replied with one word.

Cool, she replied.

Then she walked away, and as she did she looked back at me over her shoulder, paused to verify that she'd caught my gaze, and smiled assuredly.

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When my brother and I were little we used to spend a lot of time in the home of MJ, a friend of our mother's. Frequently we used to hear MJ call her children by the phrase: "You Little Shit!" At the time, I didn't understand how a mommy could say that bad, bad thing in reference to her own kid.