Leave it to ck…she gets to all the good posts first.  But our version, over here at the Insanity Warehouse where even the insanity is on sale and going fast, went a little something like this:

setting: public bathroom at a Berekely playground
time: an iota before naptime

Me: Peanut, sweetie, please don’t touch the walls while we’re in the bathroom
P: Why?
M: Because bathroom walls are dirty.
P: Why?
M: Well, there’s no ceiling and nobody who cleans these walls so the rain and the mud and the germs all just stay here.
P: Why?
M: Same reason I just told you. My answer hasn’t changed.
P: [grabs chain that blocks off bathroom, ineffectively, during after-hours]
M: honey, please don’t touch that.
P: Why?
M: Because it’s dirty. It’s part of the bathroom, it doesn’t get washed, and it’s dirty.
[everyone voids, everyone sanitizes. And Peanut grabs the chain again.]
M: Hey! Peanut. Please don’t touch that.
P: Why?
M: Do you remember me telling you before?
P: Yes.
M: Then why shouldn’t you touch that?
P: Be. Cuz. It. Dirty.
M: That’s. Right. [he has thing thing about breaking out syllables when I bore him. I have this thing about repeating his cadence. Because it diffuses my anger and because it’s fun.]
I went back into the bathroom for a moment to toss a tissue from my pocket and I hear the chain.
M: PEANUT! I just told you not to touch that. [dash back out to stop him and am greeted by:]
P: [blank stare]
M: Do you remember me telling you not to touch that?
P: Yes.
M: Do you know why we don’t touch that?
P: Yes.
M: Why did you touch that?
P: Because I want to touch it and I no want listen to you.
M: Would you like it if I didn’t listen to you?
P: No.
M: How do you think it makes me feel when you don’t listen.
P: Sad. An-ry.
M: Yes. So please listen when I say no touch.
P: No.
M: I’m sorry? What?
P: I. Say. No. I. No. Want. Listen.

Okeedokee.

I. No. Want. This. Job.