Me: Ok, I’ve ordered the food. It’ll be here soon.

Grandboy: Awww I’m hungry NOW. Make me some Gwumpa Oatmeal…!

Me: No, food’s on the way. Just wait please.

Grandboy: HUNGRY NOW I want food. Oatmeal, pleeeeese gwumpa? Gwumpaaaa…..

(this goes on for a while)

Me (angrily calculating): Ok. Fine.

Grandboy: Huh?

Me (I make a quick batch of oatmeal, and speak while making it): You’ll get the oatmeal. It’s made the same way as always. Same ingredients. Same way. But you won’t like it.

Grandboy (puzzled): Why? You make it the same way but it won’t taste the same?

Me: No. Because I DON’T want to make it for a shouting, screaming little boy. But I’ll make it. And you’ll see what I mean. (I set steaming bowl of food down in front of him)

(I go back to cleaning, but stop after hearing a noise)

Me: What are you doing?

Grandboy (putting a mostly-uneaten bowl of oatmeal in the fridge): I’m thinking I maybe don’t deserve this Gwumpa. I’m saving this for later when I think I’ll deserve it. I think it’ll taste better then.

Me: Good thinking, boy (hug)